


A Sky Full of Stars

by acklestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Best Friends, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blood and Violence, Boys In Love, Character Death, Childhood Friends, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gang Violence, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Gay Male Character, Homophobia, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Oral Sex, Protective Dean Winchester, References to Supernatural (TV), Romantic Friendship, Sad and Happy, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Upset Dean Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28283895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acklestiel/pseuds/acklestiel
Summary: Castiel and Dean had been best friends since they were seven years old.They'd never spoken about their true feelings for one another.Dean was busy working, while Castiel was busy studying. Both of their lives had become hectic and even though they were still there for one another, it seemed like the space between them had grew wider.Castiel wanted nothing more than to live the life his dad had wanted for him, to be the perfect son. But he just couldn't do it. Not if it meant him missing out on Dean.Dean was stuck between two worlds: hiding his true self and being the guy that everyone thought he was. But enough was enough. It was his time to be happy and his true happiness was Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Meg Masters
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> there will be fluff and angst and in the future chapters there will be violence and sexual content. I wasn't sure where I was taking this story but I had a deep think about it and chose wisely. it's all a work of fiction and I hope you enjoy it and the world wind I had writing it.

****December 2016

If there was one thing that Dean Winchester hated, it was being late.

He hurried through the busy streets of New York, a half full coffee container in his left hand, a bunch of roses in his right. He dodged colliding with the crowds of people every few seconds by curving his body and picking up his speed past them. The sun was still shining over Manhattan but at almost four in the evening at the beginning of December, Dean knew it wouldn’t be long before the city that never sleeps was in complete darkness. The roads were slushed with ice from where it had snowed the past few days. It didn’t seem to be cold outside though.

He paused at the traffic lights and waited impatiently until he was able to cross over the road, and once he was, he threw his coffee container in the garbage and skidded into the glass doors beside him. He glanced at the huge clock hung up on the grey wall and exhaled. He had made it in time.

“Ah, Mr Winchester,” the clerk in the reception smiled at Dean. “Just go on straight through. Everyone is outside.”

Dean nodded at the fortysomething year old man and ambled down the corridor of the hotel and out into the garden area. The area was subtle, dangling lights above him, illuminating the place. He was greeted by familiar faces, most of them family and friends, some of them work colleagues and neighbors. There was a sound of pop music playing from the speakers as he walked by a few childhood friends and over to where his brother was standing, well, leaning.

Dean scowled, completely shocked at the sight in front of him. “Are you drunk?”

Sam steadied himself and curved his thin lips at his short brother. “I didn’t think you were coming.” His green eyes were narrowed and bleak. “Then again, what is a party without the party animal?”

“I’m not gonna miss mom’s birthday,” Dean retorted and slightly punched his brother in the arm for his sly remark. “Where is she?”

Sam pointed over to the other side of the garden and said, “She’s been speaking to him since we arrived here.”

Dean let his own green eyes locate his mother and the grey haired man next to her. Of course she would be chatting to Bobby Singer. He made his way over to them and slightly coughed to get their attention.

“Dean,” his mother doted and embraced him into a warm hug. She smelled like home and it made Dean less anxious.

“Good to see you, kid,” Bobby said as his hand squeezed Dean’s shoulder gently.

“Happy birthday, mom.” He gave her the bouquet of dark red roses and kissed her cheek, curling a strand of fallen blonde hair out of her face. “I thought the party wasn’t starting till six?”

“Oh, you know how I like to get things done and dusted,” she said as she held the roses in her hands. Her blue eyes squinted as she beamed at her eldest boy. “Thank you for these, sweetheart. They’ll look lovely in my living room.”

Dean stretched his long legs after standing for a few minutes. He began to speak with Bobby about life and asked how his mechanic business was going. Dean worked there for two weeks after graduating high school but decided to quit and find another job.

“You can always come and help me out when you’re free,” Bobby laughed, messing with the collar of his linen shirt under his grey overcoat. “Could always use an extra pair of hands.”

Grinning, Dean shrugged his shoulders as he thought about it. “Maybe I’ll take you up on the offer. Could always do with the extra cash and training.”

“Well my door’s always open, son.”

Dean excused himself and joined his brother at the semi-bar in the corner. “I’ll have a beer, please.” He watched the young red headed bartender dawdle away to fetch his drink and then felt the presence of Sam behind his ear. Sometimes he wished Sam would just stay put.

“If you don’t get her number then I will.” Sam’s dark eyes perceived the same girl and he wet his lips with his tongue.

Dean sniffled and adjusted his jacket. His brother was kind of an asshole when it came to women and it riled him. He got it from his father, a man Dean fortunately didn’t share the same obnoxious ways with. “I’m good, thanks though.”

“Alright,” Sam said as he sipped his drink.

Once Dean had his drink in his hand, he observed the busy crowd for a certain face but couldn’t quite locate it, not until there was a loud growl of laughter heading through the door and a shriek of “ _HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARY”_ following it. He watched Chuck Novak pick up his mom and twirl her around excitedly. Dean couldn’t help but smile. His mom was adored by everyone.

“Looks like Castiel has got a girlfriend,” Sam slurred as he managed to walk away without falling over.

Dean felt his heart strum a little as he focused on his best friend walking hand in hand with a short brunette woman. The way he smiled when speaking to her and then tucked her hair behind her ear made him want to push her into the tree. He shook his head. This wasn’t the right time to let his feelings get in the way, but he couldn’t help it. Castiel looked like a dream, the kind of dream you didn’t want to wake up from and if you did, you’d close your eyes and try to finish it. Maybe it was his dark hair that hung above his brooding blue eyes, the eyes that Dean had found himself staring into for longer than he should have, drowning in the waves of them. They were so soothing and made him feel like he was levitating from the ground. He smiled to himself. Castiel was honestly so breath taking and it pained him every time he was with him.

“Hey, Dean,” Chuck shook Dean from his daydream. “It’s good to see you again, kiddo.”

“You too.” He sipped his drink and then left the empty bottle behind. He forced his way past his brother and over to his best friend. He took all the courage he had him to say, “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. She’s beautiful.” And with that, their eyes locked and Dean could feel his heart beating immensely. If Dean could draw then there’d be sketchbooks with nothing but the beauty of Castiel on each page.

Castiel paused. He couldn’t speak. What was he supposed to say right now? He didn’t think Dean would show up tonight as he knew he was out of town working. He hadn’t seen much of him the past few weeks, just the odd phone call and text. Last time they spoke was two days ago when Dean had FaceTimed him to show him that he was outside playing Pokémon Go. “Uh, yeah.” The words seemed too hushed and planned. “I mean, we’ve only been dating a few days.” He gave a subtle smile to Dean and then quickly looked away. “This is Meg.”

Meg, Castiel’s girlfriend, smiled widely at Dean, dimples in both cheeks. “Hi, you must be Dean. Castiel has told me so much about you.”

“Hopefully not too much,” Dean laughed with a wink. “How’d you guys meet?” Dean was intrigued to find out.

“Columbia,” Meg beamed.

Castiel let his hand fall freely from Meg’s and inhaled through his nostrils. He had only brought Meg along with him tonight because his father was overwhelmed that his son was finally dating. It was a huge milestone for him, especially being almost twenty-one. He had friends who were on a different girlfriend every week, but Castiel wasn’t like that. He didn’t want to date till he had at least got to live a life of his own first. There was so much he was already missing out on, like travelling the world with friends or going to Vegas and gambling. He rolled his bright eyes and then focused on Dean. His lips parted and his breath hitched in his throat. He was missing out on him.

“So, tell me,” Meg said as she stepped closer to Dean, “are you honestly taking Castiel camping for his twenty-first?”

Dean gave an unknown expression and shrugged his shoulders under his leather jacket. “I mean, if he wants that, then yeah.”

“Why would he wanna go camping for his twenty-first?” She curiously asked. “I’m sure he would prefer to spend it in a bar somewhere getting drunk.”

False, Castiel thought. He would in fact love to spend it camping with Dean. It was what they had planned as kids. Because Castiel turned twenty-one before Dean, he had said he wanted to go camping with him—just him as he was the only friend he had at the time—and tell ghost stories and eat loads of roasted marshmallows. Even now, though he was much older, that plan still seemed perfect. Maybe it was because the thought of being with Dean alone in the woods made him happy.

“It was his idea,” Dean replied and placed his hand to Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel glanced at Dean’s hand and tensed his whole body. He shook the mere feeling off and said, “I was a kid at the time.” And so what if he was? Camping was all he wanted to do. Dean used to tell him stories of all the times Bobby took him camping, out in the middle of nowhere, nothing but a backpack and a tent. Castiel was always intrigued and loved listening to Dean speak about his camping trips. Sometimes he used to wish he’d take him with him.

“See,” Meg smiled. “He wants to get drunk and have a stripper.”

Dean dropped his hand from Castiel’s shoulder and nodded. “Fine.”

Castiel’s eyes met Dean’s and for a slight second he thought he saw disappointment behind them. Could he, Dean, be disappointed that they weren’t going camping? He couldn’t be. It was a stupid idea when they were kids. There was no way Dean would choose camping alone with him over getting drunk in a bar with friends. No way at all.

“We have less than a month to come up with some ingenious idea,” Sam imposed as he wrapped his arms around Castiel. “Because Cassie here needs to have the best twenty-first ever.”

“Alright, get off me.” Castiel pushed Sam up and stepped closer to Dean, who smelt pretty fucking amazing he might add. “We’ll figure something out by then, but know this Sam, you’re not invited.”

Sam rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue like the child he was. “Dude, I’m sixteen, not twelve.”

Dean pushed Sam away. “Exactly, you’re sixteen years old and act like you’re thirty. How much have you had to drink, Sammy? I’m sure mom will be thrilled when she finds out they’ve been serving her underage kid alcohol.”

Sam flipped Dean the finger and staggered away.

Castiel scratched his shaven jaw and then ran his fingers through his thick hair. He was having a hot sweat, he could feel it. Maybe it was because of his thick black jacket he was wearing. Or maybe it was because of Dean.

“You need a hair tie,” Dean said as he placed his hands into Castiel’s hair and laughed. “It’s almost longer than my mom’s.” He scraped it in the palms of his hands and held it for a few seconds. “I can see your eyebrows now,” he chuckled.

Castiel stood there, completely still, in a trance of tranquillity. Dean’s hands in his hair made his whole body relax in simplicity. It felt so good. He could fall asleep while Dean played with it.

“Leave his hair alone,” Meg teased as she stepped closer to Castiel, her hands now on his upper arms. “I love it.”

Castiel lifted his head once Dean had removed his hands. If only Dean knew how amazing it felt. His ocean eyes glanced down at Meg and forced a smile.

“I need another drink,” Dean said and walked back over to the bar, his arm brushing Castiel’s accidentally.

Castiel followed him, Meg by his side. “Your mom looks so happy,” he began as he took a seat next to Dean at the bar. “I’m glad everyone turned up.” He narrowed his eyes, an expression softened his angelic features. “I’m glad you turned up.”

“Me too,” Dean smiled and swirled his stool around to face him. “Sam and I got her a cake.”

Castiel beamed and felt this huge burst of joy run wild through him. He knew Dean had a huge heart and cared more than he admitted. “Please tell me it’s chocolate and not vanilla.”

“Of course,” Dean replied. “I do think about you, you know?” He whacked his thigh and then faced the bar.

Castiel slouched and let the words “ _I do think about you_ ” dance around his mind. He thought about him too, except in more than a friendship way. He sat up, took off his jacket and relaxed. Sometimes his mind got the better of him. He played with the loose cotton of his shirt and released the tension from his shoulders.

Standing at the front of the crowd, Dean grabbed everyone’s attention by switching off the music and shouting over the familiar faces. “I just wanna thank everyone for coming out tonight.” He laughed in his mind at the choice of words.

There were cheers and whistles from the half drunken crowd.

“Mom, will you come up here?”

Mary’s faced burned beetroot red as she made her way past her friends and up to the front of the crowd. She almost tripped over her foot. She bowed with a laugh.

“Mom, I know you hate being center of attention,” Dean said, “something I didn’t inherit from you.”

Everyone laughed, including Castiel. Dean definitely loved being center of attention. It had been that way since he can remember.

“I want everyone to sing along now.”

Sam walked from behind the bar holding a two tier chocolate cake with strawberries scattered around it. There was one candle in the middle, the flame burning brightly as the slow wind blew it. “Happy birthday to you,” he began and everyone joined in.

Castiel stepped closer to the front and crossed his arms over his chest as he carefully watched Sam hand the cake to Dean. At one point he thought Sam was going to drop it, but Dean managed to succour it in his hands.

“Now make a wish,” they both said at the same time and then watched their mother blow out the candle.

As everyone began to clap and cheer, Castiel felt his happy mood quickly turn sour as he watched Amara walk over and wrap her arms around Dean’s waist. He acknowledged her slutty ways and how she flirted with him. God, it was like high school all over again, except this time he wasn’t trying to push the feelings he had for Dean away. This time he was embracing them and letting them consume him. He wasn’t ashamed of himself anymore. Though he wouldn’t speak them out loud, he honestly didn’t care how they made him feel. He’s known for years that he was gay, ever since he was fifteen and the thoughts of him and Dean having sleepovers meant more to him than just having his best friend over to sleep. They were his secret way of watching Dean sleep beside him, listening to his soft breaths as he snored, feeling the hotness of his chest next to him. It all came very clear to him how he felt when all he wanted to do was kiss him. But he couldn’t. He knew deep down inside that that’s all he wanted to do, but he was the only son of Chuck Novak, one of New York’s most treasured men. He couldn’t be _gay_ when his father had a perfect life that everyone wanted. Chuck wanted nothing more for Castiel than to be married before thirty with children. That was one of his biggest goals; for Castiel to have his own family while he worked for his father. He had it all set out. There was no way Castiel could be a rebel with a cause and go against his father’s wishes. It would be despicable. As he stood there thinking, his blue eyes glanced at Dean’s face he felt his whole world come crumbling down. Being in love with his best friend would be the biggest scandal of them all, especially when his best friend was a guy.

He bottled his emotions up and headed to the bathroom. He had to escape for a little while.

Dean listened to Amara talk about herself for a few draining minutes until the image of Castiel hurrying out of the garden area caught his attention. He frowned. “Excuse me.” He trailed his best friend without looking back and paused his feet as he watched him walk into the bathroom. He wanted to follow him, to see if he was okay, but he could hear his brother shouting his name from behind.

“Dean,” Sam called and then collided with his brother. “Do you wanna go hit the town?”

Dean frowned. Was his brother serious? Sam was sixteen years old. Also it was their mother’s birthday. The only reason he was sober himself was because tonight was about her and not him. “Go sober up and then go home, Sam. You’re embarrassing yourself.” He pushed him away and then stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. “Shit!”

Castiel jumped out of his skin and let out a groan. “Jesus Christ, Dean.”

“Sorry,” he laughed and slid down the wall. “I didn’t know you were in here.” That was a blatant lie. The only reason he had walked into the bathroom was because Castiel was in there.

“What’s up?”

“Sam.”

“What’s he done now?” Castiel wanted to sit down next to him but stayed standing instead. He focused on Dean’s hands and how they slid down his thighs and rested on his knees. He swallowed thickly.

“He’s a drunken pig,” Dean replied as he scratched his temple.

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean’s eyes glared up. He raised a brow. “Not tonight I’m not.”

Castiel nodded because it was the truth. When Dean was drunk he usually told everyone how much he loved them or go on a conquest to find a puppy. When he was sober he was the complete opposite. “I’m sure he’ll sober up.” He fastened his button on his jeans and then pulled his white shirt over them. He stood over Dean just gawking at him like a love-struck teenager. God, he couldn’t deny how hot Dean looked. His dark hair was short while his facial hair seemed to be growing out. He seemed so much older, mature…sexier. It was making him eager to reach out and place his hand to his hair.

“I bet you’re glad you’re the only child,” Dean said as he rubbed his eye.

Castiel had to disagree with him. He hated the fact he was the only child because there was so much pressure on him to be perfect. So far he had to confess he was doing a brilliant job at being _perfect_ , though the weight of it took a toll on his mental and emotional wellbeing. “Honestly, I would love nothing more than a brother to annoy the shit out of.”

Dean’s lips curved a side smirk and his green eyes softened. “I guess that’s why you annoy me then, isn’t it?”

“I don’t annoy you intentionally,” Castiel replied.

“Sure you don’t.” He got to his feet and adjusted his belt. He peered up and focused on the way Castiel was staring at him, it actually made him feel kinda warm and fuzzy. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Castiel straightened his posture and tried to act like he hadn’t been caught staring at his best friend in such a hunger. “Like what?” He could feel his cheeks burn red and he stared down at the floor. His fingers were tapping against his thighs. He was nervous and he had no idea why. He knew how to handle these situations: play it cool and deny, deny, deny.

“Like you feel sorry for me.”

Castiel had never let a huge sigh of relief escape his lips so fast. He honestly made every situation ten times worse than what it was. “I don’t feel sorry for you,” he muttered. He played with the strayed cotton from his shirt and then hurried to the door. “I do feel sorry for me though, having to put up with your ass.” He grinned and then departed the bathroom.

Dean found himself smiling. He couldn’t deny the fact that Castiel brought out the best in him. He made him feel like he was worth more than alcohol, parties and one night stands. He made him feel like he had a purpose in life and that he could do anything.

He followed Castiel out of the bathroom and back to the party, where he noticed his brother flirting with the red haired bartender. He rolled his eyes. “You know he’s sixteen, right?” He shouted over to the bartender, who frowned and then marched away, Sam calling after her while also telling Dean he was a jerk.

“Hey sweetheart,” Mary grabbed Dean by the wrist. “I’m going to call it night as it’s almost eleven. Thank you for tonight, I loved every minute.” She kissed his cheek. “Make sure you get home safe, okay? Don’t be partying till the early morning. It isn’t good for you.” She waved him goodbye and made her way out of the hotel with Castiel’s father.

“Did my dad just leave without saying goodbye?” Castiel asked Dean as he approached him, Meg by his side again like a loyal dog following its owner. “Typical.” He pouted his lips and crossed his arms.

Meg rested her head against Castiel’s arm and said, “Are we staying or going home?”

Castiel shrugged and then peered at Dean, who was already staring at him. “I mean, it is Saturday night. I guess we could go out somewhere.”

“You know the night is still young,” Dean reminded him with a grin. “How about we get out of here and go find a party that’s more _us_?”

Castiel cocked his head and nodded. “That sounds like the best idea I have heard in a long time.”

“Come on, before Sam sees us leaving.” Dean ran for the doors, Castiel and Meg running by his side. He glanced over to his left to see Castiel smiling his way. In his mind, he took a photograph and stored it away for a rainy day. For now though, it was about to be the typical Dean that everyone knew. The Dean that he pretended to enjoy living but really hated the fact that he had to fake his own identity. Who knew maybe one day he could be the true Dean he was inside. Maybe one day he could confess to Castiel how he truly felt about him. Maybe one day, just not today.

————————

Sunday morning was the same every week for Castiel. He’d wake up, go for a run, have some breakfast with his dog Dream and then watch his father bring people home and then hold important business meetings in his office. He had always known his father was a private man but sometimes Castiel wished his father would include him in something. He felt like an outsider even though everything was happening in his home.

Castiel drank his apple juice and scrolled through his photos and videos from the night before. He didn’t remember taking so many photos of Dean, but his camera roll was full. He even had a few videos of Dean dancing and one of him falling on the sidewalk. Dean’s laugh filled the claustrophobic area once Castiel pressed play on the video. He was drunk, intoxicated in fact, slurring his words and stepping closer to the camera. He gave a wink and said, “Hello reality TV, this is Dean Winchester and his best friend Castiel.” The camera went dark and then Castiel’s face appeared, bloodshot red. He was hiding behind his hands.

“Dean, stop,” Castiel laughed. “Give me my phone back.”

But Dean didn’t obey. The camera flashed to his face again and he was talking, laughing and falling over. There were multicolored strobe lights illuminating the dark club, one in particular emitting Dean’s beauty. His green eyes peered into the camera lens and he grinned, cutely. “Damn, I’m one hot son of a bitch.”

Castiel laughed in the back ground and then the video stopped.

The commotion outside of the door alerted Castiel. He shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and slid the dining room doors open. The broad hallway was dismal and strange faces lingered inside of it. Castiel’s lips twisted as he stepped out and moved over to the stairs. There were mumbles of voices around him and one stood out to him more than any other. His father’s.

“I will let you know if I’m free that weekend,” Chuck Novak laughed and patted a tall brown man on the arm. “You give Jen my love and I hope to see her at the city hall on the seventeenth.”

Castiel perched on the bottom of the stairs, legs kicked out in front of him, eyes watching carefully as the strangers said their goodbyes. He felt like a child all over again. He remembered how he used to sneak out of his bedroom, perching behind the wall of the living room , just to get a glimpse of what his father was up to. Back then he was only a council member, now he was the mayor of New York and Castiel was used to business meetings and strangers around his house all the time. He just wished he could actually have a bit of freedom and privacy in his own walls.

He sat in the same place less than a month ago, crying into his hands when Donald Trump won the Presidential Election. He couldn’t believe it. There was no way America would survive and the thought of Trump’s America made him uneasy. But he couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’m surprised you’re not with Meg,” Chuck said once he was on his own, collecting Castiel from his thoughts. “You know I do like that girl.”

Castiel exhaled deeply and got to his feet. “I’m actually just about to meet her. She’s been studying so I didn’t want to disturb her.”

“How’s your studying been going?” Chuck asked his only son with a concerned expression. “You still struggling?”

“I’m good,” he replied and grabbed his trench coat from the dining room. Once he was outside in the cold afternoon, his boots felt heavier than usual and his sweater wasn’t as warm as he hoped. He didn’t bother buttoning up his coat or putting on his gloves. He just ambled the icy streets with his head down, hair blowing in the wind. December was his favorite month because it was festive and he loved it when it snowed, the Christmassy feeling looming in. He adored the bright lights and the smell of coffee in the air and the glittery wreaths on doors.

It was quiet for a Sunday afternoon. Most places were closed, including the café on the corner where Dean and he used to grab coffee together before heading to school, or before they’d part ways to head home after Mary moved the boys downtown a few years ago. Castiel was devastated when Dean had told him he was moving to Lower Manhattan. They had grown up together in Midtown as they had lived in the same building, a few doors down from each other. But when Mary had gotten a new job, she moved herself and the boys to a new home. Dean reassured Castiel that it was okay because they were only a train ride away. It wasn’t like they were packing up and leaving the country. Castiel had taken the news badly. He was so afraid that his best friend was going to forget about him, abandon him all together after all the years they had spent together, all the memories they made. They were only fourteen and still went to the same school, but Castiel missed Dean. They were always together. Never apart. Once Dean was gone, Castiel felt the stretch of time between them. The corridors of his apartment seemed emptier, colder. He had no one. Dean was the only kid his age in the whole block. Majority of kids were younger, like literal babies. When Castiel met Dean they were both seven years old. He’ll never forget it because that was the day he met his best friend. His soul mate in a way. They were inseparable. That was until they graduated high school and Castiel got accepted to Columbia and Dean was working his ass off with different jobs to afford a place of his own. They rarely seen each other except for birthdays, small get-togethers and the odd occasions. Oher than that they communicated via phone and Skype.

Castiel didn’t recall how they drifted the past two years, but every time they’d meet up, it was like no time had passed at all. He hadn’t seen Dean since Halloween and was so happy to see him last night at Mary’s birthday party. He had a gut wrenching feeling that maybe Dean wouldn’t show, but as soon as he seen him in the crowd, his knees buckled and his heart stopped. Dean was still so handsome. It was like he just got better looking every time Castiel laid eyes on him and it pained him to see the beauty of him.

The ping of his phone distracted him from his crowded mind. He read the text from Meg, telling him she couldn’t meet him as she had so much studying to do. He understood and texted her back, telling her it was okay. He had a lot of studying to do but his mind was elsewhere.

He scrolled through his contacts and let his thumb hang over Dean’s name. His lips puckered as he pressed dial.

Dean answered after three rings. “Cas,” his deep voice spoke, making Castiel thaw as he walked the long street. “You sober?”

He laughed at this. “I should be asking you that question.”

Dean laughed and replied, “Yeah I’m sober. I enjoyed myself last night. It’s been a while since I let myself go like that.”

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he had witnessed Dean drunk. Last Christmas? No, it was his birthday. Dean had gotten severely intoxicated on his twentieth birthday and passed out on the kitchen floor. He remembered trying to lift his body weight up and pull him to bed, but ended up falling on top of him, laughing. In the end he had to get Bobby and Garth pick him up and put him in bed. Castiel stayed with him that night, taking care of him, cleaning up his sick and rolling him onto his side every time he sounded like he was barfing. Good times, he thought. “It’s not like you do it every weekend like you used to.”

“Majority of those weekends were a blur,” Dean laughed. “Hey, remember that time you got your drink spiked and we ended up at the hospital?”

Castiel halted at the end of the road. “Oh, God. That was such a bad night. If I remember correctly, wasn’t that the night my dad got elected mayor and we were celebrating?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Two years ago.”

“It only feels like yesterday.”

“Time flies.”

It honestly did. Sometimes Castiel wished he could pause time and get stuck in the moment, enjoy life without the constant worry that time was running out. The breeze picked up and the sky seemed to have gotten duller.

“How’s your studying going?” Dean asked as he stifled a yawn.

“Wow, did it bore you _that_ much to ask me?” Castiel teased as he headed home out of the cold.

“No, sorry. I don’t know where that yawn came from. I’m not even tired.”

“You getting enough sleep?” Castiel always worried about Dean even without realizing. It was just instinct. He always wanted to know if Dean was okay, mentally and emotionally as much as physically. “Sleep is important, Dean. I know you’ve struggled with insomnia in the past.” Castiel was always there when Dean couldn’t sleep. A phone call or a FaceTime, a few times he was actually there in person. Like last year when he stayed at Dean’s for Thanksgiving and Dean had a huge anxiety attack. Castiel was by his side, comforting him, assuring him he was okay and that the tightness in his chest was nothing more than anxiety. He couldn’t sleep at all that night, his mind on overdrive. His mouth was so dry and he felt hot and flustered. Castiel put on some music and made him laugh with really bad jokes, anything to take his mind off it. It eventually worked but the sun was peeking through the curtains, casting their shadows on the bare walls, reminding them they had to leave and face reality. It was the subtle moments like that which Castiel wished would last longer.

“I’ve been sleeping, Cas,” Dean replied. “I promise.” There was another yawn, this time loud. “Maybe I should take a nap.”

“It’s only two in the day,” Castiel said as he reached his front door. He paused, his blue eyes narrowed at Mary Winchester through the bay window of his home, and he wore a confused expression, much like a puppy. “Dean, your mom is here.”

There was some sort of bang on the other end of the line and then the rasp of Dean’s voice spoke, “I knew it. She is such a liar.”

Castiel was confused. “Am I missing something here?”

“Here’s the thing,” Dean began, “she’s been seeing him quite a lot lately. I honestly thought nothing of it but a few weeks ago after that whole debate thing, you know when I thought your dad was gonna knock out that journalists’ teeth?”

Castiel grinned. He remembered that day perfectly.

“Well, since then, she’s not been home much, so Sam says. I said she’s probably working her ass off for that promotion she deserves, but Sam told me that your dad had called around a few times. Sam is a drama queen anyway and exaggerates, but I believe him when he tells me that mom is seeing someone.” Dean sighed loudly. “It’s a little weird, not gonna lie, because he’s _your_ dad.”

Castiel had no words. He somehow had made his way into the hallway, kicking off his boots, and throwing his coat over the banister. He leaned around the corner to acknowledge Mary perching on the edge of a booth, and his dad stood over her with a glass of some sort of alcohol beverage in his hand. They were laughing at each other. Dean was right; it was weird. “I’m mortified,” Castiel said. “My dad hasn’t dated anyone since my mom died. This is all too weird. Like why now? Why your mom?”

“I don’t wanna ask her about it because it’s none of my business,” Dean laughed. “If they are hooking up then I’m glad it’s him and not some random dude.”

“Dean,” Castiel said, scrunching his face on the thought of his dad hooking up with anyone, “don’t say that. My dad’s pushing his fifties. He’s not a spring chicken anymore. Also if they are, you know, does that mean we’re sort of brothers?”

There’s deafening silence on the other end for a long time. Too long. “No,” Dean finally replied. “Not unless they get married.”

Castiel’s shoulders drooped and he relaxed his posture. He didn’t want to be Dean’s brother. That would be disgusting considering the feelings he had for him. It made his stomach a little uneasy and there was a nauseating feeling in his throat, like bile. He had to change the subject. “Anyway, back to you. You good?”

“I’m dandy,” Dean said with a hint of a laugh behind his words. “You know me, Cas, I’m always good. If I wasn’t, you’d be the first person to know.”

Castiel smiled warmly at this as he stepped into his bedroom. He’s always been the person Dean went to for anything. From stupid things to personal stuff, Castiel was always there for him. That’s what best friends were for. He appreciated their talks, though mostly Dean spoke and Castiel listened, not that he could complain though because there was something therapeutic about Dean’s voice. It seemed to have gotten deeper, rougher, over the years and Castiel loved it.

“What about you?” Dean asked as Castiel fell onto his bed. “Are you good?”

“I’m good, just stressed with college.” Castiel found his free hand wander to his sweater, tugging at the neck of it. His blue eyes didn’t blink as he focused on the dull ceiling, a flaw in the architecture of his bedroom. He had called this place home for two years now, ever since his dad became Mayor. He couldn’t say anything bad about the place because it was a lot better and bigger than his old apartment. Sometimes he missed that little place though, including the damp in the bathroom that kept creeping back no matter how many time they got rid of it, and the smell of old wood floor in the hallways. It was just the minor things really. Things that felt like home, like his childhood. A smile exceeded across his lips. He reminisced on the times Dean would race him down the hall, and then see who was the fastest to get down the three heaps of stairs. He remembered the huge window in the middle of the hall, which overlooked the stretch of road outside. He used to stand staring out of it, lost in a day dream, watching cars pass and strangers hurry home. His favorite time was winter because when it snowed it looked magical, like something out of a fairy tale. “Hey, you remember that one Christmas back at our old apartment when it snowed really heavily and we built that huge snowman?”

Dean snickered cutely. “Jeez, Cas, what made you think of that?”

“I was just thinking,” he stated as he sat up focused on the ornate mirror standing against the wall, beside his desk with the heaps of paperwork scattered on it. “I remember so many things from when we were kids, and how easy we had it. Young and free.”

“Young and free,” Dean agreed. “Speaking of memories, you remember when we got stuck in the elevator and had to wait an hour for someone to get us out?” There was a roar of laughter. “You poor thing. I thought you were gonna pass out on me.”

“Dean, I was very claustrophobic,” Castiel said with a roll of his eyes, though he was grinning as he thought about it. “It was a very small elevator, and you were gassy. Stunk the place out so bad we could hardly breathe at one point.”

“Hey, don’t blame me, okay? It’s not my fault I ate something dodgy for lunch that day.”

Castiel beamed. He felt a warmness in his bones. He loved speaking with Dean and it had felt so long since he last had a meaningful conversation with him.

“So, uh, when were you going to tell me about, Meg, eh?”

And just like that, the warmness had disappeared and he felt naked while sitting on his bed. Suddenly there was a draft of cold air around his face. He shuddered. “Uh, I guess I never really thought about it. I mean, I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

“Cas,” Dean laughed. “Of course I’d be interested. You’re my best friend and when you finally get a girlfriend, that’s a big deal, even for me.”

Castiel looked behind him as he heard the floorboards creak outside of his door. There were hushed voices and laughter. He scowled and then exhaled as he heard his dad speaking about something boring. “I apologize for not telling you.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Dean replied. “How did she manage to sweep you off your feet? Did she know the names of all the constellations? Ooh, is her favorite _scrotum_?”

Castiel laughed softly. It vibrated through him. “It’s called _Scutum_ and you know that Dean.”

“Yeah I know,” he said. “I just like teasing you, that’s all.”

“No, she didn’t,” Castiel said. “She doesn’t know much about astronomy or space or anything that I’m interested in.”

“But you said you guys met at college, right?”

“Yeah, we did, but we don’t study the same subject. She’s studying microbiology and immunology. A whole different science.”

“Woah, she sounds super smart.”

“She is.” Castiel thought about Meg. She was super smart. All she did was study and learn. She had such a radiant glow about her which made Castiel intrigued, but in more of a friendship way. When they met a few months ago—they had both been studying at the same campus for two years but had never met each other until they were at a party on site—Castiel was introduced to her by his friend Gabriel, and straight away he felt some sort of connection. She was bubbly, intelligent and a Mets fan. They sort of grew closer as time went on, going to diners with friends, until they were alone several times, just enjoying each other’s company. It was Meg who asked Castiel out on a date. He told her that he wasn’t really the dating type as he was too busy focusing on studies and stuff, but after a while he gave in. He thought about it and how life was too short to miss out on making new memories. He took her stargazing, explaining to her about the constellations and how the stars aligned. She loved it but deep down inside, Castiel couldn’t help but think of the time Dean and he went stargazing. Dean was excited because he knew how much it meant to his best friend and by the end of the night he had learned names and so much more meaningful information other than “they’re just stars”. The look on Castiel’s face when Dean had said he’d read more into it, to learn what he loved. He was so grateful and the smile never left his pretty face. Still to this day, Dean knows much about everything Castiel learned him. He enjoyed the conversations about space and how Castiel believed there to be more life out there.

“There has to be, somewhere,” Castiel said, gathering his books on space. “There just has to be, Dean. We can’t be the only living things.”

Dean just smiled and patted his shoulder.

Castiel shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. He held his phone closer to his ear. “Yeah, Meg is pretty incredible.”

“I’m happy for you,” Dean said, though his voice said otherwise. “I’m gonna go take a nap and head to work. Let me know when my mom leaves.”

“Okay,” Castiel said, seeming a little disappointed that Dean was going. “I will do. Speak to you later.” As soon he hung up and threw his phone beside him, he twisted his lips and stared blankly at the wardrobe. There was a longing inside of him, a needing of something. Anything.

He stood up, collected his heap of books from the window sill, and began to read.

————————

The alarm rung loudly through the cracks of the apartment walls.

Dean growled and threw the pillow over his head. He wished Benny would switch that damn thing off already. It had been pulsating his ears for five minutes or more. “Benny, I swear!”

“I got it,” Benny shouted back. His voice was distant but clear. “There.”

Dean’s ears were still ringing. He pushed the pillow back under his head and adjusted himself, making himself comfortable as he lay in bed. It was seven in the morning, he knew that because Benny’s alarm went off at seven every god damn morning. He was used to it now. They’d been roommates for over a year, ever since Dean put an ad online because he couldn’t afford the rent solo, though he was working two day jobs and one job at the weekends. He missed Saturday just gone as he took a “holiday” to celebrate his mom’s birthday. He was planning on staying with his mom, but he ended up getting drunk with Cas and his girlfriend.

He turned on his left side, eyes wide and devoid in the dark. Cas had a girlfriend. It didn’t seem right to him. Cas had never had a girlfriend before, Dean knew that for sure. Unlike himself, who had dated plenty of girls since he was fifteen, but none of them being serious enough to last more than three months. The last time Dean dated was last year when he met a girl named Jo at a party. They lasted two months and honestly, Dean was glad it ended. There was no spark between them, no chemistry. The sex was incredible though, he couldn’t complain about that. Sometimes he wondered if it was his fault that the relationships didn’t last. Maybe he was doing something wrong? Maybe he wasn’t putting enough time into the relationship? He didn’t quite really understand what it was, just that he never quite understood women. He was better off single as it was less stressful and he could do what he wanted when he wanted, like screw up dirty clothes and throw them to the ever growing pile in the corner of his room. He kept telling himself he’d wash them, but their washing machine had broken and he didn’t want to dawdle down to the laundrette in the city. It was 2016, not 1966. He had asked Benny to take some of his stuff when he went but he never did. He said he would but never followed his words through.

“There’s bacon in the pan,” Benny said as he stood outside of Dean’s door. “Hot and ready to eat.”

Dean grinned to himself. Benny would make a good house wife one day. Before accidentally falling back asleep, Dean departed the warmth and comfort of his bed and headed down the hall, his bare feet tapping against the cold wood below him. The smell of sizzling fat lingered in the air, causing Dean’s stomach to growl. He sat in one of the stools and swung himself around on it like an excited child. The brightness from the kitchen light hurt his eyes at first but as he sat there and waffled down his breakfast, the stinging sensation went away. There was a mug of coffee on the counter top and Dean sipped it, pulling his face with each mouthful. He hated coffee. He only drank it because it woke him up and energized him.

“Why do you pull those faces?” Benny asked with a grin as he sipped his own coffee and scrolled through his phone. He wasn’t dressed yet, just in his baggy pants with no shirt. “If you don’t like it then don’t drink it.”

“If you don’t like sarcastic answers then don’t ask dumb ass questions,” Dean replied as he finished his drink. He scrunched his face on the last dribble. The last part was always the worst.

“You working a double today?” Benny asked as he placed his phone to the side. He scratched at his chin where the stubble of beard was growing.

Dean nodded and then lifted his arms, stretching them above his head while moaning as he did.

Benny rolled his blue eyes and then focused on Dean, from his messy bed head to his coffee stained lips, he oozed sex appeal. Benny was a gay man and when he moved in with Dean, he was anxious at first in case Dean wasn’t accepting of a man living in his apartment who liked other men, but that eased when Dean had confined in him telling him he was bisexual. Though he wasn’t out, Benny appreciated the truth and kept his secret.

“I hate Thursdays,” Dean sighed and began to tap his fingers on the counter as if he were playing drums. “It’s like the weekend eve.”

Benny frowned at this but let out a subtle laugh. “You’re a strange person, Dean Winchester.”

“Don’t I know it,” Dean agreed as he watched Benny walk toward the bathroom. “Hey, don’t take forever in there. I’ll need the toilet soon once that coffee’s digested.” He rubs his stomach.

“Understood, sir,” Benny replied as he rolled down his pants and kicked them in the air toward Dean, who pulled a grimacing expression. “I look good naked and you know it.”

“Uh, now I really feel sick.” Dean jumped from the stool and over to the open area of the living room. It wasn’t spacious but enough room for two. There were two subtle sofas, one against the right wall and the other against the back. They weren’t anything special and the grey material was wearing a little, but they were comfortable and did the job. They had a thirty-two inch television on a white oval unit, along with Benny’s PlayStation 4—Dean used it more than Benny did. He was a sucker for Call of Duty. A few photo frames filled the blankness of the plain walls, photos of Dean and Cas, Dean and Sam, and Dean and his mom. A couple of others of Dean with friends who were like family to him. Majority of them were from nights when they’d all get together and have barbeques in the summer or Christmas at Bobby’s house. Some great memories were made in those photos.

Dean unwound the blinds, letting the darkness from outside somehow lighten the dismal room. It had snowed again and pretty heavy this time. It glistened on the floor under the street lights, beautiful but deadly. Dean thought about Cas, and how he’d smile when seeing it. Cas loved snow. Dean remembered a time when they were kids and it snowed so bad they couldn’t leave their homes. School ended up being cancelled which made them extremely happy and they snuck outside at some point in the day and had snowball fights, until Mary called them in and grounded Dean because she specifically told him not to go outside and leave Sam alone. But Sam wasn’t alone, he had imaginary friends.

“I’ve finished up in there,” Benny called. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Once Dean was showered and dressed in his work clothes, which consisted of a black pair of slacks, a white buttoned up shirt and a dark waistcoat, he grabbed his boots and leather jacket and left the apartment. The sky was brighter now, day dawning in over New York. Dean worked as a waiter in a popular restaurant and actually enjoyed it—mostly the tips he’d get after flirting with the older women—because it kept him on his feet all day and he met new faces every few minutes. He preferred his second job which was a barista in the new coffee shop that had recently opened. He only had a few shifts there after his main job and then on the weekends he’d help out at Garth’s dental practice. All he did there was clean and make Garth laugh. He was thinking about letting it go and going back to Bobby’s as a mechanic. He knew the ins and outs of everything thanks to Bobby learning him but the only fault he had with it was Bobby lived in Boston and that was hours away. He didn’t own a car and the thought of taking the train there or the price of a cab put him off. It was more trouble than it was worth.

He let the snow crunch below his boots, and the ice wind clasp his cheeks. He shuddered. It was freezing. He wished he had put on an over shirt or a jacket under the one he was wearing because the chill in the air made his bones hurt and his flesh sting. He could feel the pain in the back of his throat every time he inhaled. He was definitely in need of some winter garments to keep him warm through the cold days ahead.

As soon as he clocked in, Amara was the first person to greet him. Dean couldn’t be rude as she did get him the job almost two years ago and helped him out a lot when he needed it. It was just at times she was a little too much, even for Dean.

“It’s freezing out there,” she said as she fastened up the top button of her white shirt. Her dark hair was pinned back with a shiny clip and she wore moon studs in her ears. She was a beautiful woman, eyes as dark as coal, skin as smooth as pebbles, lips as pink as they could naturally be. Dean had known her since high school and when they were fourteen they made out in the locker room and got caught by their gym teacher. It was such an adrenaline rush for them that they made it a regular thing until one day Dean just didn’t want to do it anymore, sort of breaking Amara’s heart. She got past it in the end and dated a guy named Adam. They broke up a week later.

“Weather forecast said it’s only gonna get worse,” Dean said with a stretch. “Might have to rent a toboggan to get here tomorrow.”

Amara smiled at this and pushed him gently. “Yes, I can just picture you on one of those things. You’re way too tall for them.” She picked up her notepad and pen and glanced at the afternoon’s customers. “If you’ll excuse me.” She departed the back room and headed out into the spacious restaurant.

Dean eventually joined her, jotting down orders from different people and then bringing them to their tables. There was one woman in particular that he served who he caught eyeing him up. He blushed a little, his cheeks burning a sunset pink. He hated that he got so flustered easily. “Is that everything?” He asked her, making sure he hadn’t forgot anything while he nervously flirted back with her.

“That’ll be all, darling,” her Scottish accent said. Her hair was red and bouncing in curls and she had shimmering eye shadow around her catlike eyes. “Unless you want to be my dessert.” She purred at him and he stepped back with a chuckle.

“That’s, uh, cannibalism,” he joked, cheeks burning hotter than ever.

She winked at him. “Is it? I wouldn’t bite, not unless you asked.”

His lips spread to an uncertain smile. “I mean, I’m flattered, but you’re way out of my league.” By that he meant a little old for him but didn’t want to come across as rude.

“Aye,” she said. “I’ve always liked my men a wee bit younger.”

“Each to their own I guess,” he nervously said. “I will be right back with your lunch.” And with that, he backed up towards the kitchen and exhaled. His shoulders released some of the tension he felt, but not all of it. He waited for the woman’s order to be served and as he made his way back out into the busy atmosphere, he felt his chest grow tighter and his breath get stuck in his throat. His green eyes focused on Castiel as he entered the restaurant with his father. He looked so beautiful, and the beauty radiated off him under the shining lights. He was wearing his beige trench coat, the one Dean always said reminded him of an old fifties movie. There were flakes of snow in his dark hair which he noticed himself because he shook them away.

“Ah, Rowena,” Chuck smiled as he headed over to the table where Dean was also walking over to.

“Chuck,” the red head beauty—Rowena—smiled as she stood and embraced him into a hug. There wasn’t really much height difference between them. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve ordered my lunch already. I was famished.”

“Of course not,” Chuck said as he took the seat beside her.

Dean gave a warm smile as he placed Rowena’s lunch down onto the table that separated them. “Enjoy, my lady.”

Rowena’s pallid cheeks blushed. “Oh, you.”

There were wandering eyes peering at them, and it wasn’t uncommon. Chuck was the Mayor of New York which kind of made him a celebrity.

“Hey,” Dean said, tugging Castiel’s arm a little. “What’s going on?”

Castiel shrugged his shoulders under his coat. “Honestly, I have no idea. He asked me to tag along so I didn’t go crazy being stuck at home all day.”

“Well I’m about to catch my break if you wanna come back with me?” Dean’s green eyes pleaded a little and his face softened when Cas nodded.

Castiel trailed Dean through the kitchen and out into the back where the door was half open. The icy air immediately clawed at his face, reddening the tip of his nose and ruffling the strands of his hair. He sniffled as he stepped out into the snow.

“And this is your favorite time of year?” Dean laughed as he pushed a pile of snow from a plastic container and perched on it. He exhaled condensation and pretended to smoke.

Castiel watched him intriguingly. He adored the way Dean would act like a klutz at times, especially in public, because he was never one to be shy. He loved the attention, doted on it. That was just who Dean was. Some would say he was a wild child but lately he’s been focusing on work more instead of partying. He glanced down at Dean’s hands, callouses on the tips of his fingers from working too hard, blistering red through the snow. “How are you not shivering in just that thin shirt?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders and sniffled. His eyes met Castiel’s and his lips tweaked at the corners. “Probably through running around all morning.”

Castiel reached over and placed his hand to Dean’s cheek, making him jump a little. “Your face is hot.”

“And your hands are freezing,” Dean said. He gripped Castiel’s hands in his and squeezed. “Where are your gloves?”

Castiel’s eyes never left their entwined hands. His hands in Dean’s felt like a perfect fit, like pieces of a jigsaw being matted together. “They’re in my pockets,” he finally answered.

Dean let his hands fall from Castiel’s and then they were fumbling in the pockets of his trench coat, like he knew the ins and outs of it. “Ah,” he grinned as he pulled them out. “There they are.” He unravelled them and carefully slipped them onto Castiel’s hands, each finger separately.

“Thank you,” Castiel beamed and nudged him with his head.

Dean glanced up and through his lashes he noticed the cold leaving pigmentation across Castiel’s angel face. He placed his hand to the loose strands of hair and stroked them away from his forehead.

Castiel’s body seemed to relax at Dean’s touch. He felt a sensuality run wild through his bones, levitating him from the ground. He yearned for more.

The snow began to fall again, flakes all over Dean and Castiel’s heads, soaking into their clothes. Dean began to shudder, the wind harsh against his skin. Castiel noticed and dabbed them off his shoulders.

“You should go back inside,” Castiel said. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Itching his jaw, Dean stood up and stretched his legs. “Yeah, break’s almost over anyway.” He gave one last glance at Castiel, smiling at his beauty, and headed back inside. He shook the snow from his boots and approached the sink where he washed his hands.

Castiel stood outside for a while longer, focusing on the snow, watching it fall from the sky. He felt as if he was standing in a snow globe or a Christmas movie. All he needed was the happily ever after, and by that he meant his best friend falling in love with him.


	2. Chapter 2

Christmas came around quickly, mostly because Castiel spent his time studying, lost in books and thoughts. He surprisingly wasn’t in the Christmas spirit much and even tried to watch Christmas movies and listen to the annoying repetitive Christmas songs that bellowed from radio stations every second of every day. Nothing helped, that’s why he studied his ass off and focused on college. He did get some time to think freely when he took Meg for a coffee or ice skating at Rockefeller—in his defence, he hadn’t skated on ice since he was twelve, so falling over several times wasn’t entirely his fault, it was his brain’s for not remembering how to move his legs—and visiting her parents out in Philadelphia. Castiel was nervous and sweat so much he had to change into his extra clothes before even making it to Meg’s childhood home. Her parents were lovely, and welcomed him as he was their son, which made him miss his Mom. He had a lovely time there, built snowmen with Meg’s little sister and ate a shit ton of meatloaf. They bought him a gift which he was not expecting and graciously thanked them. He had purchased a mulled wine and gave it to them as a gift, but once he opened his present and stared at the golden telescope, he was ashamed of his idea of a gift.

“Meg tells us you love to stargaze,” Meg’s Mom stated with a warm smile, which Meg definitely inherited, along with her dark hair and eyes.

“Yeah,” Castiel smiled back and then glanced at Meg, who was blushing cutely. “Thank you,” he said with a sincere tone. “Honestly.” He already had a telescope which his dad had bought him a few years ago but he was in dire need of a new one. This gift was his favorite so far. He honestly didn’t know how to stop being thankful.

When they arrived back to New York a few days later, Castiel had thanked Meg for a lovely time and as he headed to his home, Meg had grabbed his hand and pleaded for him to stay the night at her apartment. It was Christmas time after all.

He had spent the last three nights with her in her childhood bedroom, sharing the same twin bed, cuddled into each other. Nothing happened as much as kissing, and even that, for some reason, felt wrong to Castiel. Maybe it was because Meg’s parents were next door to them and the whole “making out with their daughter under their noses” felt scandalous.

“Just me and you,” Meg smiled, her cold hand stroking his face. “We haven’t spent any alone time together, not really. Other than the little dates but even they’re surrounded by strangers.” She leaned forward, her lips pouting closer to Castiel’s.

Castiel sniffled. He could stay the night with her but he was scared he’d end up in a predicament he didn’t want to and by that he meant having sex. He knew eventually the subject would come up but he kept pushing it away, hoping they were too busy to do it or he’d have an excuse when it felt like it was leading toward it.

“If you don’t want to, then it’s okay, Cas,” Meg smiled. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Castiel blushed at this and flattened his coat down with his free hand as the wind tugged at it. “It’s just, I was gonna go take a bath and get an early night,” he replied with a soft expression. “Also I have to help my Dad with stuff for Christmas.” He rolled his eyes at this. “Maybe another time?”

Meg just simply nodded and kissed him goodbye.

As he was perched on the chair in the dining room, Castiel kept thinking about that day and how Meg looked disappointed but didn’t say it. It pained him deep down and he tried to reason with himself as to why he didn’t stay over: he was nervous on having sex for the first time.

Yes, he thought. That was the reason. It wasn’t the thought of having sex with Meg, because Meg was beautiful in a way Castiel didn’t quite understand.

“You opened your gifts yet?” Chuck asked his son as he ambled into the dining room, a glass of wine in his hand. It was ten am on Christmas morning.

Castiel shook his head. “Not yet.” He stood up from the chair and focused on the pretty lights glowing from the garland of the unlit fireplace. Instead of making his way to the living room to open his gifts, he hurried up the stairs to his room and fell onto the chair beside his window, focusing outside on the empty streets and the purity of snow. Dream was growling in the corner, probably at his new toy, but Castiel didn’t pay attention. His mind seemed to have slipped away at the memories of Christmas when he was a child and how magical it used to feel. He was twenty-one in a couple of weeks and the magic of Christmas time had already faded.

————————

Dean slept an extra hour in bed because he had spent his Christmas Eve at Garth’s dental practice, cleaning. It seemed people preferred going to the dentist at night time than in the day, not that Dean could really blame them. Dean hadn’t been to a dentist since he was kid when he had to get a tooth removed and he wasn’t planning on ever going again. That scarred him for life. Garth had said he was going to take a nosey at Dean’s teeth one day but Dean was determined that was never going to happen. The only way Garth was getting him into that chair was if he drugged him or knocked him out.

“Merry Christmas,” Benny bellowed from outside of Dean’s room. “You awake yet?”

Dean grunted and dragged his zombie self from the warmth. He headed down the hall, socks feeling comfy against the wood, and smiled at the smell of Christmas dinner being cooked. His green eyes adjusted to the scene unfolding before him; Benny wearing a Christmas jumper with lights and tinsel on it, along with a pair of reindeer antlers on his head, messing at the oven. He grinned. “Who knew you were a Christmas lover.” He glanced over at the three foot pre-lit Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. It was missing a shit ton of decorations because Dean really wasn’t in the festive mood so he just threw it up, hung on some baubles and wrapped a lot of gold tinsel around it. It did the job, that’s what was important. Didn’t have to be perfectly dressed.

“Christmas is the only time of year I can dress up stupidly and not get judged,” Benny replied, turning around and staring at Dean, whose hair was messy and eyes puffy through sleep.

Dean jumped up onto the stool and stared down at the mistletoe on the counter top. He frowned and asked, “Dude, why do you have mistletoe? Who you planning on kissing?”

“No one,” Benny answered as he scratched the stubble on his chin. “It’s just festive, right?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders under his dark t-shirt. This time last year Dean was at him Mom’s, probably annoying the shit out of Sam, and Benny left New York to spend it with family in Louisiana. When Dean had returned home a few days after Christmas, Benny was still gone, and didn’t come back till New Year’s Day. “I’m fortunate that you love to cook,” he smiled. “Because if you weren’t here, I’d have just made a sandwich.”

“Dean Winchester,” Benny grinned, rolling up the arms of his red sweater, “you have no idea what you’re in for.”

“My stomach’s screaming for food but I refuse to eat breakfast.”

“Get some toast for now,” Benny said with a roll of his eyes and turned around to check on the turkey.

Dean’s lips twisted and then his eyes peered at the mistletoe again. “Were you gonna hang this up in here?” He picked it up and twirled it between his fingers. “I mean, we’re the only two people who live here so were you planning on kissing me?”

Benny stood up and removed the oven gloves from his hands. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle under the light and Dean swallowed. “You think I want to kiss you?”

“I am hot, so probably.”

Benny grinned at this. “Don’t get me wrong, you are very handsome, but you lack charm.”

Dean scowled at the words that Benny spoke and shook his head. He did not lack charm at all. Charm is what girls loved the most about him, and the things he could do with his tongue, but that was a whole different story. “I am charming.”

“Whatever you say,” Benny said.

Dean’s lips puckered as he focused on Benny and then his eyes gazed down at his lips. He felt a sudden tug at his chest and he slid off the stool. “It’s Christmas,” Dean smiled, holding the mistletoe above his head. “Kiss me.”

Benny looked up, a cheeky smile across his lips, and stepped closer. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He was sure. He had never kissed another guy before but it couldn’t be any different to kissing girls, and Dean had kissed a lot of girls, so he knew he wasn’t a bad kisser. He rolled his tongue across his lips as Benny got closer. For some reason there was a pounding under his ribs and he didn’t know why. He wasn’t nervous. It was just a simple kiss between friends, and Benny was his friend, not just his roommate.

Benny’s warm hands cupped Dean’s jaw and he leant forward, placing his lips to Dean’s. There was a soft sound and then he backed up. “There.”

Dean laughed, he couldn’t help it. That was a poor excuse of a kiss. It was basically just a peck. “Wow that was the worst kiss I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

Benny grunted at this and then cocked a brow. Without any warning, he grabbed Dean’s face again, only this time he wasn’t as gentle. His lips hovered over Dean’s for a few seconds and then he pressed them down hard, kissing him with such hunger that Dean was pushed against the counter.

Dean froze in an uncertain way, but gave into the kiss, letting his mouth move in rhythm with Benny’s and then he could feel Benny’s tongue push against his lips, slipping its way into Dean’s mouth. Dean could taste the bacon Benny had for breakfast, smoked and salty. His tongue was hot and a quiver of a moan escaped his lips.

Benny backed up, but then his lips found Dean’s jaw and neck, his tongue sliding into the nape of it, causing Dean to chuckle and gasp.

Dean felt a hollow warmth run through him and his hands were trembling at his sides. He didn’t know what to do with them or where to put them so he just let them hang by his side.

Benny’s hands were on Dean’s waist, holding him down against the side. He pressed into him, his body weight heavier than expected.

Dean’s head fell back as the kiss against his neck got sloppier. He tensed his hands into fists and then felt himself aroused. His eyes sprung open, embarrassment all over his face. He could feel the burning under his cheeks. He had never been kissed like this before. Usually he was the one doing all the work. It felt good to be the receiver.

Benny’s hands trailed Dean’s shirt and then his lips found the corner of Dean’s mouth. He kissed it softly and then his eyes were gazing into Dean’s. “I can help get rid of that if you let me.”

Dean frowned but then felt Benny’s hands at the waistband of his pants, one teasing the top of his pubic area and the other under his shirt, hot against his navel. Dean didn’t have the morality to function words. He didn’t know how to speak. Some part of him wanted—yearned—for Benny to help him get rid of his boner, but wouldn’t it be awkward afterwards? He had only ever let girls go down on him and he’d never see them again. That was the thrill of one night stands. But Benny lived with Dean. He was going to see him again and he didn’t want it to be awkward. Before he could even push Benny away, his hands were on his shoulders, guiding him closer. He nodded and then Benny’s hand slipped into his boxers, pulling and tugging at him. Dean gasped a moan and bit down onto his lip.

Benny kissed him again, this time quicker and softer, then his face fell to the top of Dean’s shirt, his mouth between the hallow space of his collar bones.

Dean’s eyes squeezed shut and then he felt his pants and boxers being rolled down to his thighs. He was exposed to Benny and it thrilled him. The warmth of Benny’s tongue on him rocked him back and forth. Dean felt this sensation burn through the depths of his body and his knees buckled. He swayed with Benny’s rhythm and then Benny did something with his mouth that Dean had never experienced before. It shook him to the core. “Oh, fuck,” Dean gasped. He threw his hand over his mouth, stifling in the moans that were too intense for him. His free hand found Benny’s hair and he threw the antlers away, then ran his fingers through the short rough strands. Who knew that Benny Lafitte could use his tongue so fucking perfectly? Dean wondered where he’d learned to use it so well, but as he was lost in thought, the strong wave of an orgasmic blow shook through him like he had never known. “Holy fucking shit.” Dean’s legs gave way and he buckled, sliding down the counter. He finally opened his eyes, breaths coming faster than he did, his heart beating immensely. He had to steady himself.

Benny was still knelt down, but now had eye contact with Dean. He grinned at him.

Dean watched as Benny dabbed his fingers at his lips where he still tasted him, wiping away the remains of him. He couldn’t speak. He was breathless. He just peered at Benny, wondering why this had never happened sooner.

Benny got to his feet. “Merry Christmas,” he said.

Dean listened to Benny’s bare feet amble across the floor and then disappear behind the bathroom door as it closed. He remained there, on his kitchen floor, pants above his knees, his swollen self sticky. The tension in his shoulders relaxed and he exhaled, letting his legs fall. “Merry fucking Christmas,” he told himself.

————————

After dinner, Castiel was too stuffed for dessert, so instead he poured himself a whiskey and sipped it slowly. His dad had people around for dinner who he said were “family friends”. Castiel knew three people. Family friends were people he grew up with like Dean.

The thought of Dean made him smile. He had opened his gift from him earlier and wanted to cry. It was a handmade scrapbook with photos of him and Dean as kids, to teens, to recent young adults. Some photos brought back so many memories and it made Castiel warm inside. He’d trace his finger along the photographs that were glued down and then the stickers of stars that filled up majority of pages. There were handwritten notes, inside jokes that only the two of them would know, and song lyrics that they used to belt out on karaoke nights. It was such a beautiful gift and he had to admit it; it was officially his favorite. He could just imagine Dean spending his time putting the scrapbook together, making sure everything was perfect. It must have taken him some time to put together and Castiel was grateful.

He pulled out his phone and FaceTimed him again. He tried earlier but there was no answer. Knowing Dean he was probably still sleeping. He never paid much attention to Christmas. He just enjoyed stuffing his face and getting drunk.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice came from the other end of the phone. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

Castiel smiled at Dean, who was shirtless and wet by the looks of it. He swallowed thickly. “Did you just get out of the shower?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied as he ran his fingers through his soaking wet hair. “Thanks for my gifts by the way. You know I love comics.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel replied as he walked over to the window in his hallway. He watched the snow fall heavily to the ground. “Dean, the gift you made me. I love it so much, honestly. It’s the best present I’ve received.”

“I knew you’d appreciate it,” he beamed as he placed his phone against his drawers and steadied it so it didn’t fall. “I’m just getting dressed.”

Castiel’s eyes widened at the image of Dean on his phone screen. He was shirtless and wearing nothing but a blue towel around his hips. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt embarrassed but he was. He had seen Dean naked lots of times, he even stripped him down once himself and put him in bed. For some reason Castiel felt his cheeks burn once Dean had dropped the towel and slipped into a pair of clean underwear. “Not really what I wanted to see on Christmas Day,” Castiel laughed.

Dean laughed too. “Hey, that’s the best thing you’ll ever see in your life.”

Castiel grinned and shook his head. “Actually, mine is better.”

Dean stepped closer to the phone as he threw on a green sweater over his head. “I’ve seen your dick and honestly Cas, you’re right.” They both chuckled at this. “You had your dinner?”

Castiel nodded and scratched his nose. “Yeah, it was tasty but I’m too full for anything else yet.” He took a sip of his drink and pulled a face. “Have you had a dinner?”

“Yeah, Benny cooked it,” Dean said as he slipped into a pair of grey joggers. He seemed a little quiet after that.

“Benny cooks?” Castiel questioned with a grin. “Who knew?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, picking his phone back up. “He’s uh, a pretty good cook too.”

Castiel’s lips curled as he said, “I like Benny. He’s fun.”

Dean nodded and then went to say something but stopped himself. He really wanted to tell Cas about what had happened earlier between him and Benny, but didn’t know how to. He told Cas majority of the things he did with girls, so how was this any different? Was it because Benny was a guy? He sighed and rubbed his eye. Maybe another time.

“How come you didn’t go to your Mom’s?” Castiel broke the silence that had somehow loomed over them.

“Guess I wanted to feel more independent,” Dean laughed. “I’m visiting her tomorrow. She’s having a family get together.”

“Yeah, my dad and I have been invited.”

Dean smiled, a warm caring smile and said, “At least we get to see each other. Maybe cause some mayhem like we did last week at the city hall.”

Castiel’s face turned beetroot red on the thought of last week. “Dean, that was so bad, I’m surprised my dad didn’t get fired.”

“Come on, Cas,” Dean said with a grin. “It was hilarious.”

Castiel thought back about the Christmas party at the city hall and could almost die of embarrassment. He and Dean had gotten there early to help out with everything, as it was being decorated for a party and had hundreds of guests arriving. Usually the building was for weddings but Chuck had made an exception this one time to throw a huge festivity. Castiel was stuck with helping make sure everything went swimmingly. Rowena, a Scottish business woman, who used to be married to Michael, the Borough President of Manhattan, and Chuck’s best friend, had arrived with a shit ton of balloons. Castiel had no idea why she had brought so many but there were thousands just floating around the ceiling. Dean had had a bit—a lot—of alcohol in his system and decided to get as many of the balloons he could and suck the helium out of them, which made Castiel laugh in pain. At this time the party was scorching, music blasting, everyone enjoying themselves. Dean had noticed Rowena—“the woman who flirted with me while I was working,” he told Castiel—and offered her a drink. She started flirting with him again and then Michael showed up, dressed in his best Tom Ford suit and looking as dapper as ever. He wasn’t impressed with his ex-wife flirting with Dean.

“And this is what you do at parties,” Michael had said, his dark eyes glaring at the red head. “Flirt with boys young enough to be your son.”

“I am not old enough to be this wee boy’s mother,” Rowena spat back. “And quite frankly, I’ll flirt with whoever I like as I divorced you.”

Then it got heated and Chuck had to get involved, telling Michael to calm down and Dean to sober up.

Dean was intoxicated and ended up slurring his way over to Michael, pushing him into a table of different foods.

Castiel was stood back, watching in terror as Michael gripped Dean by his white shirt and picked him up like he weighed nothing at all.

Chuck was a short man and had trouble trying to separate them. He did warn Michael to let go of Dean or he’d have to have him escorted out of the building.

Once things had eventually settled down, Castiel was taking the beer out of Dean’s hands, informing him that he had had enough and to drink water instead. It was then when Rowena dawdled over, her long green silk dress sweeping the floor behind her. She was talking to Dean about how Michael used to beat her, and that’s why she divorced him. She also thanked Dean for defending her, kissing his cheek in the process. Castiel rolled his eyes and then within a flash, Dean was gone. He had somehow managed to get back over to Michael, only this time he swung a punch, knocking Michael sideways into a Christmas tree.

Michael was lot bigger than Dean and Castiel knew it wasn’t going to end well, so he ran over to him, trying to talk Michael down just like his father did. Michael knew Castiel, had watched him grow up. He also knew Dean but not as well as Castiel. “Take your friend home,” Michael said, looking down at Castiel. “Now.”

People had been watching them carefully, wondering what was happening. Any commotion and people turned into news reporters.

Castiel had pulled Dean away, trying to calm him down, but Dean was so raged, and Castiel knew why. It was because of what Rowena had told him about Michael; that he used to beat her. It had triggered some illicit memories of Dean’s childhood, of watching his father raise his hand to his mother, hearing her screams in his nightmares. He had told Castiel about why they had moved from Kansas and why Mary was so uptight and cautious. It wasn’t a pleasant childhood that Dean had had, not until he moved to New York.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Dean spat, kicking and lounging himself forward as he tried to break free from Castiel’s embrace. “I’m gonna kill that woman beating piece of shit.”

“He’s not worth it,” Castiel had told him, finally calming him down in the corner of the room. “You’re drunk, Dean. You need to get a hold of yourself. I know you’re angry, but look at me,” he cupped his face in the palm of his hands and Dean relaxed, “he’s not worth it.”

Dean was pulling himself together though the anger was burning under his skin like an iron pressed against clothing. “How can your dad be friends with him? Does he know what he’s done?” Dean was crying now, rage turning to emotion. “Just let me knock him out, Cas. It’ll be the best thing for everyone.”

Castiel laughed at this and wiped Dean’s tears with the sleeve of his sweater. “Another time.”

But it didn’t happen another time. It happened that night. Dean had managed to get to Michael and swing another punch, and then he booted him between his legs.

Michael had dropped to the floor and everyone had turned to focus on what was happening. Eventually he got up, but he threw himself at Dean, and they both collided with the main Christmas tree in the center of the room. As they struck with it, the tree fell, causing a loud eruption once it hit the ground. Baubles rolled along the floor, a bunch smashed to pieces. The twinkling lights had gone off and everyone gasped.

Chuck was running over to the scene, pulling Michael off Dean with the help of Mary, who ended up almost fighting him herself.

Castiel just stood there, staring from Dean’s busted cheek to Michael’s bleeding head. In a way, it was funny to him. Embarrassing, but funny. Michael deserved what he got and he was proud of Dean for standing his ground, though he was drunk. The rest of the night blurred past and when Castiel had gotten home, his dad was furious. He was shouting all kind of things, saying Dean needed to grow up and act his age and stop drinking if it made him angry.

But Castiel knew alcohol didn’t make Dean angry. What made him angry was people like Michael. “He was defending Rowena,” Castiel said.

“Rowena didn’t need defending,” Chuck argued back. “This whole night has just blown up in my face. It was supposed to be a great night, having fun with friends and family, but no. Dean had to fuck it up.”

“Don’t blame Dean.” Castiel could feel his own anger rising. “Michael needed to be punched in the face.”

Chuck just ignored his son and went to bed, slamming his door shut, leaving Castiel crying at the bottom of the stairs because his anger had turned to tears too.

Castiel exhaled and held his phone closer to him as he said, “It was a very hectic but memorable night.”

Dean agreed with him. It honestly was.

The next day at Mary’s house was as hectic as Dean could remember it. Bobby was sipping his beer in the kitchen, cap half off his head, eyes peering at nothing in particular.

Garth was sitting at the corner table with his wife, Bess, and their daughter Gertie. Dean still couldn’t believe Garth, tall gangly Garth, had a kid. He remembered Garth being the shy sophomore kid at school who was the tallest kid in his class and wore wide glasses. Now he was married with a child. At least he was happy, Dean thought. Good for him.

Mary was fumbling with the music, putting on a playlist of the latest songs which everyone knew, including Bobby, though he never admitted to liking that one Taylor Swift song he always sung.

Sam was perched on the arm of the sofa, long legs kicked out in front of him. His dark hair was messy and he wore a sulky expression on his face. He wasn’t too impressed with being held up at home with family and friends because he told his mom he had a date with a pretty girl named Eileen, but Mary didn’t care. Sam needed to stay grounded and to stop acting older than Dean.

Chuck was laughing in the kitchen with Castiel, both sipping whiskey neat.

Dean scratched his jaw and staggered over to them. He gave Chuck a solemn look, and Chuck just nodded his way. He did apologize for the incident at the Christmas party and Chuck forgave him, but some part of Dean still felt a little guilty for it, though he didn’t do anything wrong. “Please tell me you guys have some of that whiskey left,” he said as he stood in between them.

Castiel glanced at Dean, breath caught in his throat. He relaxed his posture and handed Dean his glass. “Last mouthful, sorry.”

Dean’s lips twisted as he accepted the drink from Castiel’s hand. “Damn.” He sipped it back and exhaled. “Merry Christmas.”

Castiel watched the moisture soak across Dean’s lips and he mentally combusted. His hands fidgeted by his sides. “Have you tried one of Bess’s homemade mince pies?”

Dean’s green eyes flickered to Castiel and he grinned smoothly with a nod. “Hell yeah. I had three.”

“Excuse me boys,” Chuck said, slipping between them and over to Mary.

Castiel and Dean watched him as he leant forward and kissed her cheek, making her blush cutely.

“Yeah, they’re totally hooking up,” Dean laughed.

Castiel rolled his blue eyes and nudged Dean’s arm with his elbow. “They might just be friends.” God, he hoped they were because if they fell in love and got married, that would fuck his whole life up. Legally Dean would be his step-brother and that made him squirm in disgust. The thoughts Castiel had about Dean were not in the brotherly way.

“Either way,” Dean said, stretching and placing the empty glass to the side next to him, “they could be dating worse people.”

Castiel’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it but then the vibrating became a constant buzz against his thigh. He pulled it from his jeans and frowned at the screen. There were several texts from Meg. He slid his thumb across the screen and opened them up, reading them in confusion.

“What’s with your face?” Dean intriguingly asked as he focused on Castiel, who looked cutely confused. He smiled to himself.

“Uh, I have to go,” Castiel said, his blue eyes looking up from his phone. His eyes met Dean’s and he felt his heart sink a little. “It seems my girlfriend is uh, having a very stressful day and needs her boyfriend’s company, ASAP.”

Dean scowled and shook his head. “You’re bailing on us for your chick?” His lips curled. “Who even are you anymore?” He winked and pushed him forward. “Go get her tiger.”

Castiel sighed and said, “Is it bad that I don’t wanna go?” He felt a wave of guilt circling him as soon as he spoke those words. “I mean, I like spending time with her, but I’d rather be here with you.” His cheeks burned red and he quickly added, “With everyone.”

Dean thought for a second, scratching the back of his ear, and replied, “I mean, no, not really. Like yeah, she’s your girlfriend, but you don’t have to do everything with her if you don’t want to.” He patted Castiel’s shoulder and felt the tension build in his own. It felt weird having this sort of conversation with him, but he was his best friend, and Dean wanted Cas to know he could talk to him about anything. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t. But if she says she needs you, then go and be there for her.”

Dean was right, Cas thought, but there was still some uncertainty in his gut. “Better start walking,” he said, looking out of the window at the heavy snow. Meg lived at least more than an hour away from Mary’s house and the thought of walking all that way in the blistering cold made him shiver.

“You can’t walk in that snow,” Dean said. He glanced over at Bobby, who was chatting with Sam. “What if I borrow Bobby’s car and take you?”

“You really wanna drive in that snow?” Castiel questioned. “I mean I know you have your licence but Dean, you’ve never drove in that kind of weather before.” He frowned at this as he thought. “When was the last time you drove?”

Dean’s lips twisted and he shrugged his shoulders under his denim jacket. “Last May, I think."

“Jesus.”

“Hey, I can get you there and then bring myself back home safe and sound.”

Castiel rolled his eyes but nodded. “Fine. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Dean beamed widely. “Now it’s just getting Bobby to give me the keys.”

Bobby did eventually hand the keys to Dean—after Dean promised to come by his garage and help out with the cars.

Once they were in the car and out of the blistering cold, Dean turned on the heater and reversed out of the narrow road. It felt strange being back behind the wheel but the adrenaline shook through him like a riptide in the ocean.

Castiel messed with the radio, finding a suitable station with old rock music. He knew Dean would appreciate it. ACDC’s “TNT” roared from the speaker. Castiel hummed along, watching the whiteness blur past him in the window. The window wipers removed the flakes of snow but as fast as they disappeared they reappeared again.

Dean slowly turned the steering wheel right, and headed past the Hudson River, which looked frozen. The roads were slow, the blur or red tail lights in front of them. The sky seemed to loom over them, dark and dismal for almost two in the evening. Dean glanced over at Cas to his right, who was humming along with the song playing, bobbing his head a little. Dean smiled and fought the urge back to squeeze his arm.

“I hate New York,” Castiel randomly said, staring out the steamy window. “It’s always overrated and overcrowded.”

Dean snickered at this. “Move.”

“If only,” Castiel replied. His eyes found Dean, lost in concentration as he drove, and he began to feel warmer than what the heater was making him. “Do you ever think about moving from here?”

Dean’s shoulders shrugged as he halted at the lights. “I’ve thought about it, maybe heading back to Kansas, but there’s nothing there for me really other than shit memories.” He turned to Cas and smiled, warmly. “I did always wanna go to San Francisco.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit there,” Castiel said.

“We should go together,” Dean suggested, wholeheartedly.

Castiel’s cheeks burned red but he nodded. “Do you mean that?”

Dean began to drive again, the car rocking below them. “Hell yeah I do.”

“Then it’s done,” Castiel told him. “Once I graduate, we’ll go. We’ll just pack up and leave.”

Dean focused on him, from his tousling hair to his dopey smile spread across his lips, and for a second, forgot that he’s just his friend. Down in the pit of his chest, he felt the tug squeeze at his heart, making him wary and cautious. They could pack up and leave, Dean thought, and disappear to San Francisco if they really wanted to. Who could stop them? Mary? Chuck? They literally had the whole world ahead of them just wanting to be explored. Dean could get a car, or a minivan, and they could go travelling. He had a few hundred bucks saved up in an account and he knew Castiel wasn’t short of money. They really could make it work if they wanted to.

Dean was hesitant to tell Cas how he truly felt, in case it ruined everything between them, but at the same time, being secretly in love with his best friend excited him.

Once they drove past the Empire State building, they knew they were close to their old apartment. The long streets were covered in inches of snow, naked trees glistening under the sky. It all looked magical.

“She lives up there,” Castiel pointed to an apartment complex on the other side of the road, close to Central Park.

Dean pulled over at the edge of the road, away from the busy streets. He stretched his arms and pouted his lips. He looked over at Cas, who seemed frozen to the seat. “Dude, you okay?”

Castiel simply nodded. He was good, really, he was just nervous. He hadn’t actually been alone with Meg in her apartment before. They usually had friends with them. His fingers started to intertwine and he inhaled sharply, trying to compose himself.

“Cas,” Dean said, quite concerned. “Are you—”

“Oh, God,” Castiel interrupted Dean. “What if she wants to have sex with me?” His thoughts were spoken aloud and he couldn’t help it. “I don’t want to, I mean I don’t think I’m ready to.” His fingers were in his mouth now and he was biting down on his nails.

“Cas,” Dean said, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Relax, man.”

Castiel’s blue eyes found the comfort of Dean’s green ones and he relaxed the tension building up inside. “I shouldn’t have come. I should have told her I had the flu.”

Dean was laughing now and Castiel playfully punched his arm. “I’m sorry,” he said, holding up his hands in defence. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you this nervous before.”

Castiel didn’t reply. He just unbuckled his seat belt and let it slide across his chest.

“Is this really about sex?” Dean questioned with a raise of his brow.

Yeah, kind of, Castiel thought. “It’s not just that,” he replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s just, you know I’ve never done anything more than kiss, and I’m scared that we’ll do it and it’ll mess everything up.” That was part of the truth. The other truth was that Castiel just wasn’t sexually attracted to Meg, not really, and he didn’t know how to confess it, because Meg was truly beautiful and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He inhaled deeply. How was he supposed to have sex with someone who didn’t turn him on? Was he supposed to think about the ripped chest of men’s stomachs, the broadness of their shoulders, and the roughness of their stubble across their jaws, as he was inside of her? That was the only way he could feel like he could get through it. Keep his eyes closed and think about the secret stash of gay porn magazines he used to sneak glances of in stores when he was a teen, when puberty awoken something inside of him he never knew existed. He’s got this, he told himself. He could do this.

“Look, Cas, you’re bound to be nervous for your first time,” Dean said with a reassuring smile. “I was. It’s a nervous thing to experience, but trust me, once you’ve done it, every other time will come naturally to you. It’s just getting through the first time that’s the bummer.”

“I get that,” Castiel said. “It’s just…” his voice trailed off as his eyes found Dean’s. “You’re my best friend and I can tell you anything, right?”

“Of course, Cas,” Dean said.

Castiel’s heart was beating rapidly under his ribs. He felt hot all of a sudden, like there was no air. He wound the window of Bobby’s car down, letting the ice breeze clasp its claws against his flesh. This was it, he thought nervously. This was the moment. It had to be because if it wasn’t now, then when?

“Cas,” Dean’s voice fell soft.

“Dean,” Castiel began, not looking at him. He was scared of what his reaction would be to the next words he spoke. He took a long breath and stared at his boots below him. “I’m g—“

There was knock on the window, startling Dean and Castiel.

Dean wound the window down a little to acknowledge Meg, wrapped up in an oversized cardigan, crouching closer to the car.

“I thought it was you,” she said with a smile as she stared at Dean. Her dark eyes then looked across to Castiel. “Hi, babe.”

Castiel had stopped breathing. He didn’t know how to anymore. It was like the world had just crumpled below his feet. He was so close to telling Dean the truth of who he was, who he had buried down for so long. He was so close to confining in his best friend, to finally feel some sort of weight lifted.

Dean’s eyes narrowed at Castiel, a chill in the air above them. He wondered about what Cas was gonna tell him right before they were interrupted. He was desperate to know. He reached his hand out and squeezed Castiel’s. “You good?”

Castiel focused on Dean’s hand on top of his and there was tranquillity within himself. He forced a smile as he lifted his head and said, “Yeah, always. Thanks for bringing me.”

Dean nodded. “You’re welcome.” As Castiel departed the car, Dean shouted, “Text me if you need me, okay? For anything.”

“I will do.” With that, Castiel slammed the car door shut and hurried through the snow over to Meg, wrapping his arm around her as they hurdled inside the building out of the cold.

Dean drove home, listening to legendary rock classics as he overthought. There was something eating away at the back of his mind about Cas, and he couldn’t think what it was. Something just didn’t feel right and it was going to pester him for the rest of the night.

Once he safely returned to his mom’s house, he handed Bobby his keys and thanked him, then headed to the kitchen to grab a beer. He perched on the edge of the wooden chair, eyes staring down at the cracked tiled floor. He was lost in a daydream for several minutes until his phone buzzed him back to reality.

He pulled it from his jacket and read the text from Cas: **San Francisco Summer 2018. Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair**

Dean smiled, widely. 2018 seemed like forever away, but it was worth the wait.


	3. Chapter 3

**December 2016/January 2017**

New Year’s Eve in New York was always a huge event. Tourists from around the world visited Times Square to bring the New Year in with a bang. It was the city that never slept. Thousands of people gathered together, drinking and partying, having a good time. Dean was tipsy, sipping his beer, dancing with friends and strangers and singing along to the pop music playing. Times Square was alive, billboards bright above the skyline, strobe lights flickering through the crowds. Dean was nowhere near the front of the audience for the live music though he could see it perfectly ahead of him. Inflatables were being bounced above his head and a cannon of confetti had been let off. People were singing, screaming, celebrating the end of 2016 and ready to bring in 2017. Dean was elbowed a few times by people dancing and at one point he felt his ass get pinched. He rolled his eyes.

“Five minutes till the countdown,” Sam said aloud of the music so Dean could hear him. Dean wasn’t gonna bring his sixteen year old brother with him at first but then changed his mind. He told Sam he wasn’t allowed to drink under any circumstances though, and he agreed. Sam was sipping pop and eating McDonald’s.

Dean glanced up at the rays of purples and reds illuminating the sky. He always felt a thrill celebrating New Year. It was probably the only time he actually felt genuinely happy.

“Have you found someone to make out with yet?” Charlie, Dean’s red head sidekick asked. Her hair was braided on both sides and she wore comical glasses across her eyes with the numbers 2017 on. “Or you can just make out with your hand like every other time.” She grinned at this and Dean nudged her.

“Have _you_ found someone to make out with?” He cocked his brow and then glanced at the short curly haired girl in front of them. “She’s hot.”

Charlie slapped his arm. “Uh, I was thinking that, but she’s probably straight.”

“So is spaghetti till it’s—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Charlie quickly interrupted. “God, I hate you at times.” She began to dance, her hands high in the air, hips swaying side to side as Rihanna’s “Work” started to pump from the speakers around them. Everyone seemed to be dancing, even Sam.

“ _Just get ready for work work work work work work_ ,” Dean sang, his hands moving to the beat.

Benny had managed to scoot himself through the rowdy crowd and back over to them, drinks in hands, legs dancing. He was wearing a cowboy hat which lit up with twinkling lights. There was also a pink feather boa dangling around his neck across his blue jacket.

Dean shook his head with a grin. “Where did you steal that from?” He tugged the feather boa from him and wrapped it around his own neck. It itched his flesh after a while.

“Okay guys get ready,” Sam said, staring up at the screen with the countdown on it.

Charlie squealed and adjusted her funky glasses. She stepped closer to Dean, leaning into him. She could smell the rich cologne that was soaked into his shirt.

“Ten, nine, eight…” the crowd chanted in unison.

Dean’s green eyes peered around him at everyone counting down. He looked at Benny, who was laughing with Sam, and then stared down at Charlie who was under his arm, a party horn against her lips. He smiled, warmly, but some part of him felt like there was something missing; _someone_ was missing.

Cas.

“Three, two, one… HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Multicolored flashes lit up Times Square as the fireworks exploded loudly in the sky. Confetti rained down like glitter. Everyone was cheering. People were making out. Dean watched the fireworks, lost in a trance of serenity, until Sam pulled him into a tight hug, arms wrapped around his body. His face was against his head.

“Happy New Year, jerk,” Sam laughed against his brother’s head.

“Happy New Year, bitch,” Dean chuckled as he patted his back.

Charlie jumped up and somehow managed to squash her small self between the two tall guys. “Happy New Year, bitches.”

Dean kissed Charlie’s head. His eyes glanced to Benny, who was sipping his beer. “Happy New Year.”

Benny smiled and opened his arms wide, letting Dean run into them. They hugged roughly. “Happy New Year, Dean.”

As Dean’s arms were around Benny’s waist, he felt the vibration against his thigh. He stepped back, still adjacent to Benny, and pulled out his phone. His eyes squinted at the text from Cas: **Happy New Year Dean. Sorry I couldn’t be there with you tonight. We’ll have to have our own party one day soon**

Dean felt his chest tighten and his shoulders tense. This was the first New Year’s Eve he hadn’t spent with Cas. It felt weird. Cas was with his girlfriend and college buddies at a party somewhere else.

Coldplay’s “Hymn for the Weekend” started to play and Dean quickly texted Cas back, wishing him a Happy New Year and the promise of a party of their own.

Dean was very intoxicated when he got home around three in the morning. He fell through the door of his apartment, laughing and singing. He was still wearing the pink feather boa and Charlie’s huge 2017 glasses.

“Jesus,” Benny laughed as he hauled Dean up, carefully succouring him into the living room and onto the couch. “Stay there while I get you some water.”

Dean slouched down the cushions and onto the floor where the glasses fell off his face. He groaned then crawled over to the window, kneeling up at it as he tried to push it open, but failed.

“Dean,” Benny sighed as he placed the glass of water to the table beside the couch. “Come on, man. You haven’t been this drunk in ages.” He leant forward, throwing his hands under Dean’s arms, slowly hauling him backwards.

“I don’t get it,” Dean slurred, sitting up and pulling himself forward, making Benny stop pulling. “Why did he go to that party and not come with Charlie and me like he always does?”

Benny frowned at this and asked, “Who are you talking about?”

“Cas,” Dean retorted, circling around to face Benny, knees to his chest. “He could have brought Meg and his college friends, I wouldn’t have minded. I met majority of them last year.”

Benny scratched the back of his head and took a seat on the couch facing Dean. His lips tweaked at the corners. “Are you mad at Castiel for not being at Times Square tonight?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, not even knowing what he was mad about, but he was mad. “Every year since we were seven years old we celebrated New Years together and then tonight, he wasn’t there.” Dean’s lips puckered as he thought. “Did I do something wrong? Does he not care about me now that he has a _fucking_ girlfriend?”

Benny couldn’t help a laugh escape his closed lips. “I think you’re over thinking it.”

Dean rolled his eyes and kicked off his boots. “It’s whatever, honestly. I just wanted him there tonight. It felt strange without him.” Dean didn’t know why there was a pain throbbing in his chest or why there was a sudden heavy weight pressing down on his shoulders. He wasn’t angry at Cas choosing others over him, he was just mad at the fact he was his best friend yet he couldn’t even spend the New Year with him again. Maybe he was being dramatic. Maybe Benny was right and he was over thinking it. He just knew, deep down inside, he missed Cas.

“You able to get to bed on your own?” Benny asked as he stood up and stretched. “I’m tired, man.”

Dean nodded and lifted himself up, steadying his posture. “Yeah.” He zigzagged across the wooden floor, almost knocking into Benny, and then leant his body against the doorframe. He chuckled, acknowledging how drunk he truly was. His mind was foggy and he looked down as he felt hands on his waist, steadying him to his bedroom. He rested his own hands over Benny’s and as they entered his bedroom, he circled around, grabbing onto Benny’s hands. “Stay with me.”

Benny’s eyes narrowed and he swallowed. “Dean, don’t do this.”

“Please,” Dean begged, his hands now up Benny’s arms, pressing his shoulders. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Benny exhaled, his hands reaching out to Dean’s face. He looked at him with a concerned expression and quietly said, “You know if we go there then there’s no going back.”

“You had my dick in your mouth a week ago,” Dean laughed with a sudden tug across his chest. “Please, Benny. It’s not like I’m asking you to have sex with me. I just want to be held.” The tears seemed to come from nowhere, swelling his eyes. He blinked away the blurriness, one dribbling down his pale cheek. It’d been a while since he let himself cry. scratched his nose. is.ty . as he threw on a green sweater. and t. favorite. ng lyrics that his shirt, hot against his nave “I don’t ask you for anything, ever.” He seemed vulnerable and it scared him. He backed up, tripping over nothing. “It’s okay. Night, Benny.” He closed his door before Benny could reply.

Dean lay in bed that night, mind on overdrive, slipping in and out of sleep. He was too drunk to stay awake too long but when the morning came and the sun crept its way into his bedroom, his pale walls aglow in the eeriness, he grunted and pulled the blanket over his head. There was a pounding in his head and all he wished for was sensibility. He didn’t want to get up, not really. He wanted to stay in bed all day and sleep it away. He seemed to be tired but in more than a sleepy way. He couldn’t describe it. The only time he had felt that before was when he was a child and had the weight of the world on his shoulders, looking after his little brother, making sure Sam was okay. And then again as a teenager, when he was dealing with personal demons and not accepting his sudden feelings and emotions that ambushed him. He knew, deep down, that he was different. He tried to not let it consume him, so as he got older, he buried it and drank. He dealt with his problems in his own way. Some would say in a toxic unhealthy way, but for Dean, it worked, momentarily.

Usually when he’d drink his pain away, or his loneliness, it’d work to a contentment. Dean was okay with that, he had to be because there was only so much he could do. He couldn’t afford therapy and some part of him didn’t believe it worked anyway. It was a sham, all of it. The thought of paying a total stranger to spill your deepest darkest secrets chilled him to the bone. In what sense was that any better than burying them away? At least he didn’t have to embrace them, feel the eruption they caused him on a daily basis. He could just pretend they didn’t exist. It had worked so far and Dean was an expert at pretending.

Last night he was vulnerable and it terrified him. He didn’t know why. It had just appeared out of nowhere. It was as if his heart was on his sleeve, yearning for someone to hear his pleads and hold him. He just wanted to be held, for the gentle touch of someone’s fingertips brushing against his flesh, the warmth of arms cradling him close. He craved intimacy and not just sexually. He didn’t remember the last time someone had actually touched him and seen him for who he truly was. He didn’t want sex with strangers, which was just a thrill for the adrenaline seeker he was. One night stands were to distract his mind from the feelings deep within. He was touched starved. He wanted more than sex, more than booze. He wanted something, anything, to fill the pit in his stomach for good. He just didn’t know what that something was. There was only so many times he could replace the band aid with another before he bled out.

He turned over, his green eyes narrowing at the dust particles circling the air in the ray of sunshine. He could hear cars outside, horns loud in the distance, tires hard against the icy roads. He suddenly could smell the sweet smell of homemade cooking and his stomach growled beneath the sheets. He had to get up, he knew that, but an extra hour or two in bed would be great for him. He closed his eyes, his mind drifting off into the peacefulness of sleep.

————————

The snow under the morning sun looked like a magical scene from a fairy-tale. It glistened like crystals under the rays, casting multicolored shadows against Castiel’s grey sweater. The air was frosty but not so much for him to wear a coat. He’d only stepped outside to capture a photo of the two baby robin’s that were resting on the snowy porch of Meg’s apartment. He’d spent the last few of days with her, hauled up in the subtle living room, head lost in books as he studied. His house had become too hectic for him to concentrate. Chuck had people around every day, probably discussing important meetings and whatnot, Castiel thought. He was going to ask Dean if he could stay with him, but knew Benny lived with him and the apartment would become overcrowded, so he asked Meg, who was beyond happy to have him stay. That way they could spend more time together and get ready to start college after the holiday season.

They did spend so much time together and Castiel enjoyed her company. From the board games they’d play—Meg was a very competitive person Castiel had figured out and there was no way in hell she was ever losing—to the cuddling on the sofa watching old movies under fluffy blankets and stuffing their faces with takeout. Castiel couldn’t complain because Meg did make him happy. At one point he started to question himself and his sexuality: could he possibly be bisexual? There was never that inquisitive thought before because he was certain he was gay. He had never been interested in women or even had any crushes, which he could remember. He just knew that the only person he’d ever really had feelings for was Dean. He didn’t remember when those feelings emerged, he just recalled one night staring at him, his eyes falling to his lips, the sudden urge to lean forward and kiss him. It terrified him. Repulsed him in fact. Dean was his best friend and they were both boys. Being fifteen years old, confused with why he wanted to kiss and hold his best friend, he let it eat him away from the inside. He hid it, still was hiding it all these years later, and he never understood why. He wasn’t ashamed because there was nothing to be ashamed of. Love was love and it was beautiful no matter what. But back then, he didn’t know that. He always believed—through the kids at school who taunted others for being _different_ , and the lack of representation of gay couples on TV—that it was wrong. That it was immoral. So he never spoke his truth, kept it buried deep inside. The past few years had taken a whole new perspective on him, like when his friend Gabriel made out with a guy at a frat party and no one said anything bad, in fact, everyone was cheering them on. And that time he caught one of his dad’s male peers flirt with him, making Chuck blush and not know how to speak. He had let him down lightly, stating he was only interested in women, but flattered nonetheless. Times were changing and Castiel was so happy they were. Yeah, there were still so many fights that needed fighting and so many more voices that needed hearing, but in the world, the new world, people like him were happy. They were holding hands in public with their lovers, kissing and cuddling. Though PDA did make Castiel a little uncomfortable, he was so beyond thrilled for people. He just didn’t know why he hadn’t come out yet—did he have to _come out_? Why couldn’t he just bring a boy home and introduce him as his boyfriend without the question of “are you into men?” So what if he was? He didn’t owe anyone shit.

Castiel’s blue eyes glanced down at the white city below him. Buildings cascaded for miles out, Hudson River sparkling as it flew by his left, and the view of frost tipped branches of Central Park to his right. Everything about New York was beautiful, except the fact it was constantly busy and the streets never seemed to shut up, even at night time, seven stories high.

“Morning,” Meg said, stepping outside into the faint snow on the balcony. She slipped her arms around Castiel’s waist and nuzzled her face into the space between his shoulder blades.

“Morning,” he replied, the condensation departing his lips. He stepped aside, pulling her inwards to his chest. Her dark curls were messy and her brown eyes puffy through sleep. She was wearing matching pyjamas which had cute white bunnies on them. He beamed at her and kissed her head. She did make him happy in a way he’d never experienced before. The smell of her fruity shampoo was still stuck in his nostrils once they were back inside the warmth and he was sat at the table in the corner, scrolling through his phone.

In the time he had spent with Meg, he had also spent time with his friends from Columbia. He had enjoyed it so much, just being surrounded by people his own age and people who were witty and knew how to have fun. Some part of him did miss Dean though, as he did whenever he’d spend time with other friends the past two years. But for some reason he seemed to miss him more lately than he ever had. He didn’t spend New Year with him which was very unusual because he had spent the last twelve New Year’s with Dean by his side. He remembered celebrating the New Year and bringing in 2007—ten years ago—when they stole beer from Mary’s fridge and hid under the table in the kitchen, each taking a sip and then coughing and pulling faces. They were ten years old and when Chuck caught them, they were in a lot of trouble and weren’t allowed to leave their apartments not that that stopped them because Dean used to sneak them out into the hallway all the time, playing tag or getting Sam to chase them around until had a crying fit because he couldn’t catch them.

Castiel felt the tug at this chest and he inhaled. He had texted Dean and wished him a Happy New Year and Dean texted back saying that he’d make it up to him with a party of their own. He didn’t know when that’d be because it was six days into January and so far 2017 had him studying his ass off. The last time he had seen Dean was two days before New Year’s Eve when they went to Little Italy for no reason at all and Dean had slipped on the ice and dragged him down with him. They were just sat here, soaked in snow, laughing while onlookers around them were staring. It was a memorable moment, especially when Dean helped him up and then threw a snowball at him.

“Do you want some toast?” Meg’s singsong voiced called from the kitchen.

Castiel straightened his posture on the metal chair and replied, “No thanks, I had some before you woke up.” He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and then opened up his texts. He clicked Dean’s name and realized the last time they had spoken was two days ago when Castiel texted him asking him about something from their childhood and Dean had FaceTimed him and they were on the phone for over three hours, talking about anything and everything. He quickly sent him a text, locking his phone and placing it to the table below him.

“My dad’s coming into town today,” Meg reminded Castiel as she sat on the chair beside him, a plate of toast in her hands. “He has to do something in the city and asked if he could stay here instead of spending a lot on a hotel for one night.”

Castiel just nodded, staring at her with a look of serenity. Meg was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that, but as he was staring at her, taking in her pale skin with pink touched cheeks, and thin lips that curled every time she’d pronounce certain words, it hit him; he wasn’t attracted to her but he did have some sort of feelings for her. He had Googled it the other day when he was questioning himself. He wanted to know why he was attracted to men but this one woman was making him all sorts of crazy. He knew part of it was because she was giving him the attention he had always craved and their friendship had blossomed so quickly that he was head first in everything with her. They just connected and it felt right. Castiel didn’t understand how he had ended up here, but he had, and he needed to know if he could be happy with her in a way that relationships would need him to be. He had to know if he could love her the way he wanted to, the way she deserved to be loved. He didn’t want to hurt her because that was the last thing on his mind, that’s why he was willing to try. He had to try, see if it made a difference, see if he could fall in love with someone as incredible as Meg Masters. He’d hate himself for not trying. So he Googled how he was feeling, went through a shit ton of web pages about different sexual orientations and finally found one he could somehow relate to: biromantic homosexual.

Castiel had only heard of the word _biromantic_ a few times when he used to research the LGBTQA and all the orientations and identities within it. It made sense to him now. He was a gay man, he knew that. He was only sexually attracted to men. He had tried to feel something over Meg when they almost had sex a few nights ago, but he just couldn’t. He told her he was nervous and wanted the first time to go perfectly for him and her. So they cuddled instead.

Maybe he didn’t identify as a biromantic homosexual, but it felt right to him at that time. It explained why he enjoyed holding Meg’s hand and telling her how beautiful she was and why it was suddenly easier to kiss her, knowing she enjoyed it. It all made sense to him but he couldn’t talk about it to anyone. He kept it all to himself, his mind constantly overthinking the situation. The other night he woke up in a sweat as he thought maybe all this time he was leading Meg on and almost broke up with her.

His phone pinged, distracting him from his heavy mind. He leant over to see Dean’s name on his screen. Suddenly the weight in his shoulders eased and he could breathe again. He read the text: **I’m just at work but can meet up about 3 when I finish?**

“What you smiling at?” Meg questioned with a grin. “You got a side chick?”

Castiel shook his head with a roll of his ocean eyes. “It’s Dean,” he replied without looking up at her. He was too busy texting his best friend back. “I was thinking,” he began as he finally glanced up, swallowing, “you don’t want me here tonight while your dad’s staying so I’m gonna stay at home tonight.”

Meg frowned at his words and placed the plate of half-eaten toast to the table. Her dark eyes narrowed and she placed her had on top of his. “Cas, don’t say that. Of course I want you here. You’re my boyfriend.”

Castiel’s lips tweaked as he said, “I know, it’s just I don’t wanna intrude. Plus I haven’t seen my own dad in a week except for Facetime so I kinda wanna go home. We’ve had over the past week together and I know sometimes you like your own space and so do I.” He took her small hand in his, circling his thumb across her palm. “I’ll leave my stuff here so you know I’ll eventually come back.”

She smiled at this and nodded. “I understand.” She leant forward, pecked a kiss on his lips and whispered, “I love you.”

Castiel didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t the first time she had said it to him. He just smiled and kissed her again. They’d only been dating just over a month and the L word felt a bit premature to him. He knew she was okay with him not saying it back and there was no pressure for him to say it. He couldn’t say something he didn’t mean.

A few hours later, he was walking to the restaurant Dean worked at after getting off the metro, boots kicking the inches of snow below him. For almost three in the evening, the streets were busy, cars aligned the roads through heavy traffic. The wind seemed to pick up, making Castiel shiver a little under his trench coat. His hair tousled against his forehead and his blue eyes widened as he noticed Dean ambling down the path in front of him. The warmth rushed through him like he was standing in a sauna. There, in front of him, looking as beautiful as the day he met him, was Dean Winchester. He was wearing his oversized brown leather jacket—which was over worn because the leather was fading under the arms and around the collar—with a pair of dark jeans and his heavy boots. Castiel was certain Dean was wearing a grey t-shirt underneath and a navy over shirt, but he couldn’t tell as he was still a distance away from him.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean smiled, a beautiful warm smile, that had Castiel weak at the knees for several seconds. “Come here.” He pulled Cas into a hug, his long arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him like he hadn’t seen him in years.

Castiel’s face fell into Dean’s broad shoulder, his face cold against the leather of his jacket, and he smiled. He held him adjacent, not wanting to let him go. There was just something therapeutic about Dean’s hugs and Castiel appreciated them. Dean smelled great, like sweet chamomile and fresh lemon. It was appeasing.

Once he stepped back, Castiel realized Dean had had a haircut. It suited him. He looked older, mature. Hotter in fact. He mentally bit his lip.

“How’ve you been?” Dean asked. His voice was rough. His green eyes were illuminating as he stepped into the ray of the sun that suddenly appeared from behind the clouds. The pupils in his eyes dilated and there was a subtle tone of yellow in the green of them.

“I’ve been good,” Castiel smiled as he walked by his side. “How’s everything with work?” He glanced at Dean and yearned to let his fingers stroke the softness of his shaved jaw. He thickly swallowed and focused on the snow below his boots.

“Work’s work,” he laughed and it was such a beautiful sound. “Got the night off now till morning.” He nudged Cas with his shoulder, wearing a seductive grin. “I’ve also got a free apartment.”

Castiel frowned. “Wait, where’s Benny?”

“Visiting family in Louisiana,” Dean replied. “I was thinking, it’s Friday and I owe you a New Year Party, man.”

Castiel’s lips curved and he blushed, cutely. “Yeah, a week late.”

“You’ve been busy with your girlfriend,” Dean said and his eyebrows wiggled. “Anything you wanna tell me?”

“If you’re wondering if I’m no longer a virgin, then don’t get your hopes up.”

“Damn,” Dean replied as they halted at the end of the road. “Here was me thinking you were getting nonstop loving all week.” He swayed his hips and started making kissing noises.

Castiel blushed again and playfully pushed Dean. “Stop it.”

They talked as they made their way to Dean’s apartment which wasn’t that far from the restaurant. As soon as they were inside, Castiel shook his coat off and threw it over the back of the chair. He felt the warmth from the radiator on the wall as he headed past it and over to the couch. He didn’t sit down. Instead he peered at the photographs on the wall and smiled. He always loved these handful of photos that Dean had on display. They brought back so many great memories over the years, especially the one of them standing outside of the Mets Stadium, holding inflatable baseball bats in their hands, wearing blue an orange jerseys. They must have been thirteen in that photo. Chuck and Bobby took them as a surprise. It was the best day ever. Castiel could still hear the cheers from the crowd and the smell of hot dogs in the air.

“So, have you figured out what you wanna do for your birthday?” Dean asked as he shut the fridge. He carried two bottles of beer in his hands and wore a smirk as Cas frowned. “Come on, it’s Friday.” He handed him the beer and Castiel accepted willingly.

“Not really,” Castiel answered, unscrewing the lid with his mouth. It popped off with a hiss. “Still up for camping?” He laughed at this.

“I mean, if you really wanted to go camping then we could,” Dean said as he took a seat on the sofa. “But it’d be freezing especially if it’s still snowing next week.”

Castiel sipped his beer, thinking about how he was going to spend his twenty-first birthday. Usually he’d have had it planned out, like he did with his sixteenth and eighteenth, but for some reason, he just didn’t know what he wanted. Maybe he should just get drunk at a bar, have a cake and then run wild through the streets of New York. Yeah, that sounded like a plan. He angled is neck and his blue eyes found Dean’s green ones staring right back. His lips parted but words didn’t come.

Dean’s tongue rolled across his lips, getting rid of the driblets of beer from his bottle top. He took a swig, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the mouthful, and then smiled with an exhale. “Nothing better than the cold taste of Budweiser.”

Castiel didn’t agree with Dean. He wasn’t really a beer kind of guy. He preferred whiskey or gin, something that actually awoken his taste buds and not feel gassy in his mouth. “It’s alright.” He took another sip and then placed it to the table beside Dean.

Dean got up abruptly and headed over to the television, switching it on and putting on his playlist of rock music. Dean loved rock music. Castiel could name every Bob Seger song and knew almost every lyric to AC/DC through him. He also knew that one Kansas song that he loved.

They spent the evening talking, drinking, singing and laughing. They didn’t notice that the sky had stretched dark over Manhattan until they had finished their pizza and were chuckling about something stupid. Castiel laughed so hard he felt it vibrate through his belly and shoulders, spiralling in his head, making him a little dizzy. He tried to pull himself together because he couldn’t breathe but it was no use. He fell back on the arm of the couch, in uncontrollable laughter, his hand to his chest. His ribs hurt and his head was pounding.

“Are you okay?” Dean laughed, reaching his hand to Castiel’s shoulder. “Catch a breath.” He had managed himself to finally breathe through the surge of giggles. His head was finally less tense.

“I’m good,” Castiel managed to say as he sat up, inhaling deeply. He bit down onto his lip, trying to hold his laughter in. He couldn’t laugh no more. It hurt too much. “Why are we like this?” He’d forgotten the last time he had laughed so effortlessly and so much.

Dean just shrugged and drank the last mouthful of beer from his bottle. “If you can’t laugh like this with your best friend then get a new one.” He slid down the couch, legs kicked out in front of him, grey socks keeping his feet warm. “Ah,” he sighed. His bottom lip puckered out and he glanced at Cas, who was leaning his head in his hand. “I’ve missed this.”

Castiel’s blue eyes narrowed and he smiled widely. “Me too.”

“These nights of nothing but laughter and us.” He let his head fall back on the seat of the couch as he focused on Cas. He seemed relaxed suddenly and there was a warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Castiel sang along with the song playing from the speakers and he found himself grinning. Only he would relate to a Bob Seger song. _Beautiful loser, read it on the wall and realize, you just can’t have it all._ It was Dean’s fault.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice was soft and the music lowered. “The other week, when I dropped you at Meg’s, you tried to tell me something.” He didn’t know why he was thinking about that particular moment but it just dawned onto him and there was alcohol oozing through his pores which made him even more interested than he’d be sober.

Castiel’s lips closed and there was wave of anxiety rattling through his bones. He didn’t know where it had come from but it was strong. He adjusted himself on the couch, propping up one of the cushions below his arm. He couldn’t look at Dean because if he did he’d had to stop himself from crying. It was a strange awful feeling that was lingering in his head but he felt vulnerable, timid. He was certain about telling Dean who he really was but that was a whole different day. Now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know why because Dean was his best friend and he could tell him anything, but he felt like he couldn’t tell him what he wanted to. Not now. Not while he was tipsy and susceptible. He just faked a smile and replied, “Oh, I don’t remember what it was I was going to say. Mustn’t have been important.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and puckered his lips and he nodded. “Oh, okay.” He didn’t believe Cas because Cas was a terrible liar and when Cas lied, he didn’t look anyone in the eyes. Dean knew Cas better than anyone and he had known for quite a while, years in fact, that he had been keeping something from him. Dean never asked though, he knew eventually in his own time that whatever it was, he’d tell him. Dean had a feeling but never pried. He had no right. Best friend or not, he still had boundaries. “Well just know,” he said, placing his hand to Cas’ knee, “that you can tell me anything, okay?”

“I know,” Castiel smiled, staring down at Dean’s hand. He wanted to place his own hand on top, but didn’t. “You can tell me anything too.”

Dean knew that, that he could confine in Cas about anything, but he still kept himself closeted. He still hid the part of him that needed to be set free. He didn’t know why, but he did. He wasn’t ashamed, was he? No. he couldn’t be. He was just afraid and he didn’t know why. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore. He could be himself and be happy. He had every right to be happy. He deserved it. His green eyes lowered to the open pizza box with the grease splurges and unwanted crust inside.

A few hours later they were both laying on each of the sofas, tucked under warm blankets with darkness surrounding them. The streets outside were aloud with drunken voices and impatient cars which lit up the shadows of the living room as they passed. That was the only fault with Dean living on the first floor, Castiel thought. It was too exposed to the city life and an easy target for a break in.

Castiel tossed and turned, eventually sitting up and glancing over at Dean, who, under the subtle light peaking from behind the blinds, was lay on his back, left arm over his face, right arm dangling to the floor, snoring. His legs were jerked up over the armrest and his socks had been kicked off sometime through the night. Castiel smiled and pulled the blanket closer to him. The temperature had seemed to drop a lot and he shivered under his sweater. Maybe he was suddenly cold because he was tired and couldn’t seem to stay asleep. He didn’t know what time it was or how long he’d been asleep in the first place. He did try to fall back asleep but he just couldn’t drift off but when he finally did, he woke up again to find the other sofa empty except for the blanket threw on top of it. Dean was gone, probably to his bed where he’d be a lot comfier. Castiel removed himself from the comfort and grabbed the other blanket to keep him warm, and as he did, he paused as he heard Dean’s voice coming from the hallway beside him.

Rubbing his eyes and managing to not walk into the table, Castiel headed to the hall to narrowly acknowledge Dean standing outside of the bathroom, wearing his grey t-shirt and boxer shorts. He had his phone to his ear and was running his hand through his hair. Castiel hesitated to step forward but he slowly did, and the creak in the wood below him alerted Dean.

Dean eyed Cas as he stood at the end of the dark hallway, blanket in his hands, confused expression on his pretty face. “I know,” Dean said, talking into his phone again. “But what am I supposed to do? Freeze to death?” He made his way over to Cas and whispered, “Just speaking to Benny.”

Castiel nodded and slung the blanket over his shoulders. The air seemed cold, like there was a window open somewhere. He couldn’t believe Dean was in his boxer shorts. Surely his legs were cold?

“Okay, fine. I’ll have to call them in a few hours. Bye.” He hung up his phone and exhaled. “I’m still too drunk for this shit,” he said.

“Everything okay?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders. “The boiler has broken again. It keeps doing it and Benny seems to know how to fix it when it goes off but he’s not here right now so I’m gonna have to wait a few hours to call someone to come out and fix it.”

That explained why the apartment was freezing, Castiel thought. “Yeah, you need to get someone out because you can’t live in a freezing cold apartment, especially while the weather is bad.”

“First it was the washing machine,” Dean began as he headed toward his bedroom, Cas following behind, “now it’s the fucking boiler. I give up with this place.”

“What happened to your washing machine?” Castiel asked as he stepped into Dean’s bedroom. The light from the lamp stung his eyes as Dean switched it on. He squinted.

“It just stopped working so we had to throw it out,” Dean said, pulling out a pair of grey joggers and slipping his long legs into them. “Couldn’t afford a new one straight away but Benny was able to get a second-hand one from a friend a couple of weeks ago.” He pointed across at the pile of clothes neatly folded on the chair beside his desk. “Does the job. At least I don’t have a shit ton of dirty clothes stacking up like I did have.”

“You should have told me,” Castiel said. “I’d have given you the money.”

Dean’s face straightened and his lips closed. “Cas, you know I’d never ask you to borrow money, even if I was desperate.”

Castiel knew that. Dean was never the kind of guy to ask for money in situations where he needed it. He’d rather suffer and lose than have the constant reminder of owing someone. “I wouldn’t have asked for it back.”

“So am I a charity case now?”

“I didn’t mean that.”

Dean growled and fell back onto his bed. “It’s too cold to be sleeping out there,” he told Castiel, who nodded. “We can top and tail like we did when we were kids.” He patted the empty side of the bed beside him. “Close the door though, it leaves a draft.”

The sun woke Castiel up. It was bright and aimed directly at his eyes through the subtle gap of the blinds. He didn’t move from under the warmth, instead he pulled the blue duvet closer to his chin and snuggled down into it. He could feel Dean beside him, his knee in the arch of the bottom of his back and his arm across his own calf. It had been a while since they had shared a bed together—probably when they were teens and a lot smaller—and Castiel had forgotten just how calming it was. The last person he shared a bed with was Meg, but sharing with Dean felt more intimate, though they weren’t cuddling. He felt safe, which was an unusual thing to think, but it was true.

Dean murmured and adjusted the pillow below his head. He was awake and regretting it. There was a numbness in his head and his mouth felt dry. He needed water but was too lazy to get up. His green eyes narrowed at Cas beside him, head facing the wall, duvet over his chin. He held in his grin. He wanted to kick him out of the bed as a joke, but thought twice about it, though the urge was still there. “Morning, sunshine.”

Castiel groaned. “What time is it? I feel like I haven’t even slept.”

Dean lifted his head, dark hair messy, eyes adjusting to the sensitivity of the morning sun. He touched the screen of his phone and said, “Just gone eleven.”

They ate cereal once they departed the bed at twelve fifteen. Castiel’s phone was charging on the kitchen counter as it had died through the night and he didn’t want his dad or Meg to worry about him. He brushed his teeth with a spare toothbrush that Dean had in his drawers, washed his face and combed his dark hair back. He stared at his reflection, mapping out the lines across his forehead, and the subtle bags under his eyes. God, he looked like he was thirty not twenty. He felt forty with the aching in his shoulders and legs. He couldn’t believe he was twenty-one next week.

Dean was on the phone when Castiel joined him in the kitchen again. He was arguing with someone, telling them they had no choice but to come and fix the boiler because it was freezing and they didn’t want a death on their hands if he froze in his sleep. He was pacing the kitchen, hand in his hair, face red with anger. “Next week?” He retorted, sharply, making Castiel jump under his skin. “I could have frozen to death by then.”

The phone call lasted over an hour and when Dean finally released the stress from his shoulders and exhaled deeply, Castiel asked, “Everything good?”

“Someone’s coming out tomorrow morning,” he replied, his jaw set straight. He was pissed off and Castiel knew it. He hadn’t seen that expression in a long time. Last he can remember it was when they were waiting in line at a convention downtown and some guy pushed his way past, calling everyone a “dickhead” in the process. Castiel had to physically restrain Dean by his arms so he didn’t push the guy into the road. It was the aftermath where Dean’s face was motionless but his jaw so tense Castiel thought it was going to break. “So looks like I’ll just have to wear ten layers of clothes and wrap up warm tonight.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay with me,” Castiel suggested, blue eyes wide as he smiled. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Dean replied as he rested his arms against the counter. “Thanks, Cas, but I’ll probably crash at Garth’s because I’m working tonight.”

Castiel simply nodded, sipping the coffee from the mug that Dean had made for himself several minutes earlier but didn’t finish. “Why do you make coffee if you don’t like it?” The taste was rich and tepid against his tongue. He wet his lips after drinking the remaining driblets.

“I do like it, kinda,” Dean replied. “It’s just not my cup of tea.” He winked at this and his pale cheeks blushed a crimson pink.

Castiel chuckled, shaking his head. “Idiot.”

Dean couldn’t drop the dopey smile that was spread across his lips. He watched Cas laugh, his eyes creasing at the sides, his nose scrunched cutely, mouth wide with glee. He adored the way Cas laughed. It was magical, pleasant, soothing in fact. He could listen to him laugh all day long. It made him feel warm inside.

————————

Castiel’s birthday arrived faster than he had hoped. There were white and blue balloons floating toward the ceiling of his dining room, two huge silver helium number balloons—two and one to make twenty-one—in the center when he walked into it on his birthday morning. There were a few gifts placed on the broad spread of marbled table along with cards a few bottles of alcohol. He smiled, warmly. He had no idea his dad had prepared all this for him. Usually he’d just wish him a happy birthday and give him a card with some cash. Castiel was humbled and grateful.

“Happy birthday,” Chuck said, walking into the room wearing his grey robe over his navy pyjamas. His hair was wild, the roots of his dark hair grey and uncombed. His beard seemed to have grown a lot thicker than Castiel had remembered. “Finally twenty-one.” His blue eyes narrowed at this and his lips curled at the corner. “Wow that means I’m getting old.”

Castiel laughed at this. “Fifty in three years.”

“You shut your mouth,” Chuck said with a grin. “I’m not forty-seven till June.”

“I’m just stating facts.”

“Fifty is half way to one hundred,” Chuck said, sliding into one of the chairs beside the table. “I wish I was twenty-one again.”

Castiel sighed and approached his cards, opening them and reading the messages inside. Majority of them were from Chuck’s friends. He read the one from his dad, which made him smile, and thanked him. There was one from Michael which had one hundred dollars inside. He rolled his eyes. He didn’t really want to accept money from a woman beater so he left it inside of the envelope and folded it carefully, placing it into the pocket of his grey hoodie. “Ah, this one’s from Mary.”

Chuck’s blue eyes glistened under the beam of light. He leaned over, trying to peer inside. "Bet she’s filled it with a soft soppy message, hasn’t she?”

“Kind of,” Castiel replied as he read Mary’s neat handwriting. “She said she can’t believe I’m a twenty-one year old man and that she remembers the day she first met me: a big blue eyed chid who used to steal her milk.”

Chuck laughed at this, fingers rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, I remember her knocking on our door a couple weeks after she moved in, telling me she caught you red handed stealing it.”

Castiel peered at his father, who was smiling while staring at nothing. He wanted to ask him about Mary, to clarify that they were in fact seeing each other. It had been over a month since he had first wondered about them but it had been months since Mary had been coming around, but Castiel had never thought anything of it back then. Why would he? Mary and Chuck had been friends since Castiel had been friends with Dean. He was used to her coming over and talking, just hanging out and drinking with his dad. It had been that way for years. So why had it taken him this long to suspect something between them? Was it because Chuck had been busy over the past few months and Mary hadn’t been over in a long time that when Castiel had seen her with Chuck last month, in his home, he was confused? He shouldn’t have been because he used to see them like that all the time. Maybe it was because of what Dean had said about Sam saying that Mary wasn’t home a lot and that Chuck was over at hers too. His lips twisted and he inhaled. “Dad,” he found himself saying, Chuck staring up at him with a soft expression. “I didn’t wanna ask you, because it’s none of my business, but are you and Mary, _you know_ , seeing each other?”

Chuck’s cheeks blushed pink and he shook his head. “Cas, what on earth gave you that idea?”

He shrugged his shoulders. Now that he thought about it, there wasn’t much proof of them together other than what he was told and finding her in his house a few times. “It’s just, I thought…” he trailed off, his fingers skimming the fold of the card in his hands. “Never mind.”

“I promise you that there is nothing going on between Mary Winchester and myself.” He stood up, stretched his arms over his head, and then said, “I don’t know where you’ve got that crazy idea from, son, but there honestly isn’t. Mary is, in a way, my best friend. She’s been having a tough time lately, that’s all and I know I’ve not been there for her as much as I used to be with everything going on in my hectic life, but I’m trying. The past few months we’ve grew closer again, the way we were when you were a kid, but nothing more, I promise.” He patted his shoulder as he headed out of the room.

Castiel’s shoulders drooped, and he felt the relief flood through him. In a way, he was happy there wasn’t anything going on between them because that would have been uncomfortable for him considering the feeling he had for Dean. It’s not like he didn’t want his dad to be dating anyone, because he kind of hoped one day his dad would meet someone spectacular and get married again, but Castiel knew, deep down inside, that that wouldn’t happen. Chuck hadn’t dated anyone since Elena. They were childhood sweethearts and married at eighteen. Castiel could only remember glances of his mom, from her dark hair flowing hair to her emerald green eyes and the wide smile she used to wear across her face every day. He wished he could remember more, like her voice and the touch of her hand against his face or the feel of her lips as she kissed his cheek. He missed her dearly. He was only five when she died but he still remembered the way she looked at him before she died; proud like he was everything she had hoped he would be.

Castiel felt the lump at the back of his throat and the tears laced the corners of his eyes. He sniffled and focused on his birthday presents. He wished his mom was here with him right now. The world was cruel, it honestly was. Why did she have to die? She was young, still so full of life. Castiel didn’t understand it back then and he still didn’t. He believed that she would get better. It was just a disease that would eventually go away with the right medication. But it didn’t. It only got worse and he could still hear his dad crying, screaming in their old house. That memory haunted him ever since. His dad on the floor, not being able to breathe because he was uncontrollably crying, his mom laying on the bed, no longer breathing because she had succumbed to cancer. It was like the world had gone dark around him. A five year old child being ushered by his aunt and being told it was all gonna be okay. What was gonna be okay? Life? How could life possibly be okay? His mom had just died and Castiel didn’t understand why she wasn’t waking up. She was with the angels now, people told him. She was watching over him. She was no longer in pain. He didn’t know how to process that in his little mind. He didn’t know what cancer was. He didn’t know why he felt so alone.

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel hastily turned around, blue eyes blurry as he focused on Dean standing there with a gift bag in his hand and a warm welcoming smile on his beautiful face. He didn’t hesitate to run over to him and wrap his arms around Dean’s secure body. He held him, sobbing into his shoulder. He didn’t mean to cry, he really didn’t, but the memories had just come flooding back and he couldn’t help it.

“Hey,” Dean said, placing the gift bag to the floor and pulling Cas’ trembling body adjacent to his own. “What’s the matter?”

Castiel didn’t reply. He just nuzzled his face into Dean’s shoulder and squeezed the leather of his jacket between his fists. He felt safe now. The ground could crumble beneath them and Castiel wouldn’t budge. He wouldn’t let go of Dean. He realized as he held him close, that Dean’s arms were his safe haven. They always had been ever since he was a kid. He needed the embrace of his best friend. He just needed Dean to hold him, and Dean did.

Dean held him tighter, one hand on the back on Cas’ head, the other against the bottom of his back. “I’m here,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

And just like that, Castiel believed it was all gonna be okay. Everything was going to be okay. Dean was there, arms around him, holding him like he was too fragile to let go of, and Castiel felt his knees buckle. _Everything was gonna be okay._


End file.
